Forgotten
by Alexis Diamond
Summary: How can a 19 year-old girl deal with the horrible grief of her past? When she gets robbed and shot at, it digs up old memories that had been buried beneath years of therapy. What will happen when she falls for a police office? Read, review, and find out!
1. Prolouge

PROLOUGE

14 YEARS EALIER

"Daddy no!" Faith Woods grabbed at her drunken father as he threw her bloodied mother to the floor.

"Shut up you stupid child!" he screamed and kicked her stomach. The table that had once been filled with happy meals and laughter toppled down over her mother as her father kicked and swore. Clenching her fists, Faith dragged herself towards the couch and cowered behind its structure. Tears sprang to her eyes as she watched her mother struggle to stand. Around Faith were pictures of a happy family, the family they used to be. On the floor were shattered bottles of whiskey and broken furniture.

Failing to stand, Faith's mother collapsed to the ground and began to shake with sobs. Her apron was stained with blood and dirt and her face was cluttered with fear, worry and long, wet streaks. Sketched into her arms and legs were long slivers of blood, wood, glass and dirt. Brown hair matted her head and glassy blue eyes framed her face.

"Mom…" Faiths whisper reached her and she looked up, sorrowfully grabbing at the wooden cross dangling from her neck. _Mommy, _Faith anxiously worried, _why do you still believe in something so not real? At a time like this can you not see that He isn't here? _

Suddenly a glass bottle collided into Faith's mother. Gasping, Faith stared at her father staggering drunkenly towards his wife. Faith looked away, not wanting to see her mom get hurt. A scream filled the air. Faith covered her ears, but the scream stayed. It surrounded her in pieces, biting at her ears one after another. The blood in her ears pounded, and the scars in her back felt like fire. Without warning, the scream stopped. Faith whipped around to see her mother race towards the kitchen.

"Get back here, stupid!" Her father's words were slurred and unintelligently placed as he charged after her.

Adrenaline raced through her body as Faith jumped up and followed her father. She raced around the table and stopped dead.

The moonlight filtered in through the window, shining on her mother. In the dark, she saw the glint of a knife just seconds away from his bloodshot eyes. In deathly moments the blade pierced flesh, her father grunted, and he toppled over her mother. They both fell as a lump of flesh, collapsing onto the floor with a grunt and a moan. The edge of the knife slowly poked its way out of her father and blood originated down his back,

"Ahhh!" Faith rushed towards her mom and pushed her dad aside. Her mother's eyes were closed, face drained of its color. Slowly her eyes opened and she gasped.

"Mommy! Are you O.K?" Faith anxiously eyed her mother's pale face and took her hand. "What's wrong with you?"

"Faith… I know it's hard but… this is the way it was meant to be…"

"No, it can't be. That's not right!"

"Listen (sigh)… even though it-it…didn't seem like it God… was always" Pause, "with me and protecting me…"

"No, that can't be right. Look at you, mommy and daddy and our house and Izzy… No, I won't believe it, I can't!" Faith struggled, suddenly hating this 'god' who let all this bad happen.

"Honey, it's the way He runs things… it's his way, God-"

"No!" Faith suddenly screamed and jumped up throwing down her mom's hand. Panic swarmed her, threatening to close off her throat. Why was mommy talking like this? Fear broke out with the panic, squeezing her. Her heart suddenly ached and she panted from the jump. Her mother gasped. _God can't be really real or he would save mommy right now. _ An idea popped into her head. _If God can help mommy, then I'll know he's true. _

She looked up and murmured gently, "God, hi, it's Faith and my mommy is in real trouble and is hurting and so if you can help her, then I will know that you are real, but if you don't, then I won't believe in you 'cause mommy says you can do anything, but if you can't help her then I will know that you can't do anything and then I'll know you must not be real."

Looking down, Faith felt hurt grip her heart as she watched her mother gasp for air and clutch her stinging hand. Once again she knelt by her mother's side and gently took her mom's hand. "Mommy… please don't go…"

"Faith… I will always love you… and think of you don't… be angry at God… is just my time." With one last longing look, she closed her eyes. Her chest stopped moving and her hand grew cold, as she was lost in a world of spirit and death.

"Mommy no, no!" Faith screamed and buried her head into her mother's clothing. Blood pooled around her parent's bodies as a long, mourning cry from a child losing her family broke into the night.


	2. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

14 YEARS LATER

PRESENT DAY

A scream of sheer terror tore from Faith Woods' throat as she flew up in bed. Tears flooded her eyes and she looked around anxiously, expecting to see her mother's ghostly face and father's deathly figure. Calming down, she recognized her unbroken furniture and neat room. Faith untangled herself from her sheets and walked towards her mirror. Sighing, she inspected the face staring back at her, no longer dirty and beat. It was just a dream. Slowly, she began walking towards her bed.

Suddenly, a distant crash broke into the night. Faith froze. She whipped around, hardly hesitating as she raced across her hallway on silent feet. Fearing the worst, she slid to stop at the living room door cracked open ajar and tried to calm her pounding heart. It was probably just the cat, or a breeze from an open window. Cautiously, she peeked through the crack in the door.

A man with ripped clothing and a dark mask poked at her couches with a black pistol. Glass covered the floor and her north-facing window was bare. Cool wind fluttered through the opening, trying to escape the dark, moonlit night. Faith swallowed a gasp and blinked hard. Howls filtered in on the wind gently filled the scene as the man turned from her furniture.

Faith tried to turn away and not look. Their eyes met. His eyes narrowed; hers widened. She looked away and squeezed her eyes shut. Clenching her fists by her side, desperately she hoped, wished, that he hadn't seen her. Nothing happened. _Oh no…_ She turned around, dreading to see the strange man. Broken glass and overturned furniture stared back at her, unblinking. Sighing, she turned to get a phone when without warning she heard the crunch of glass. Her heart jumped in her chest and she turned to come face to face with the barrel of a black pistol.

"I'm afraid you've seen too much." He whispered hoarsely in a husky voice. A sweet smell that stirred images from her past floated from him. Whiskey.

Faith did the only thing that entered her mind. She kicked him. Hard. He grunted and fell back against the wall. She brushed past him and shoved him again, hoping it would slow him down. Something grabbed her arm. She yelped and shook off his grip. Running towards the door, she tore it open, entering her hallway. As she ripped through her house she felt gunshots haunting her every step.

Through her hallway, her bedroom; past scenery and picturesque smiling families, oblivious to the scene racing past every oil-laden stroke. Her front door loomed, a shadowed beacon in the glimmering night. She ripped it open, and jumped, uncertain if the pounding in her head was her blood racing or her enemy behind her. Racing on, she stumbled through her yard. The moon sent a shaft of light onto her gate and she sprinted towards it. The grass was a glistening splash of dew from the early morning hours and a soft breeze whispered through the many trees dotted on her yard. The cool air sent chills through her nightgown and up her spine as Faith stumbled across the wet grass and nearly collapsed as she neared the fence.

Faith fell into the gate. Catching herself, she tinkered with the latch. Footsteps crookedly placed sounded behind her. She pulled and fidgeted with the gate. It was stuck. Her ears rang with a sharp pounding as she grabbed a breath. When had she last used it, two, three months ago? A small slit of ice was keeping the latch from opening. Ice? It was March! She pried at the latch, twisted and turned. Nothing.

Bam! A bullet sliced through the air, just barely missing her shoulder and licking her skin. Thin fingers of pain reached up and grasped her throat. She gasped and muttered a scream as she drew back. Hot flames snapped through her shoulder as panic flew through her. _I'm on fire! _Her head screamed at her. Still pulling, she tried to force reason into herself. _You were shot; you're not on fire. Get a grip girl! _ The footsteps were much closer now. Faith whipped around and winced at the pain spiraling through her arm. An ache spread and her vision blurred slightly. She fought against the urge to sleep. _You've survived worse than this! Fight it, fight it! Remember Darth. _She gritted her teeth and tried to narrow her eyes and glare at the figure standing just seconds from her death.

He raised the gun. A small whimper escaped her throat and he grinned crookedly. She closed her eyes and leaned back, her palm against the latch. Click. Boom! The gate swung outward as Faith fell onto her back. A bullet flew over her head as she collapsed onto solid ground.

Scrambling up, Faith shut the gate on his knees. A grunt sounded followed by a flying bullet to the left of her. She sprinted into the undergrowth beyond, leaping logs and skirting plants. A thought sounded that this was her neighbor's yard, but she didn't care. No more bullets followed, or so she could tell; all she could hear was her heartbeat in her throat, plants leaves _swishing_ as she pushed them aside and her pounding footsteps that were much too loud.


	3. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

DAY -1

Cassey Franchise is a very small town of 637 occupants. Founded by Robert Franchise, an immigrant from England during 1914, and a few other families, Cassey Franchise grew from a population of 32 to 637. There were 8 families when the group was first recognized as a 'town'. The Franchises, Ridges, Roundaways, Singletons, Woods', Boulds, Frenes, and Livints all worked together using their education to build a strong community.

Originally, the town was called Ridgewood because of the large mountainside that protected the east side of the town and the forest the sheltered the north and south sides. This gave the town a beautifully secluded area, and the geography fit the name. Unfortunately, on traveling from England to America, Cassey Franchise, Robert's first child, grew sick with small pox and died a year after they had settled. The grief that filled the family compelled them to rename the town Cassey.

Andrew Franchise was born the next year, and still lives in the town as it's oldest at eighty-four years old. The town is eighty-six. Coffee shops are the other fame that fills Cassey. In total, it contains seventeen coffee shops, which is the most locally owned coffee shops to a population ratio in California. Not many regular people, other than its occupants, know where Cassey is or the many coffee shops it holds, but certain special people do.

In the small town of Cassey Franchise, the Atlantic Coast Shipping industry, one of its only industries with access to the ocean, sat amid a few other businesses. A bank, a pub and the Service Station, a quaint coffee shop, were its surrounding friends. The Atlantic Coast Shipping Industry, ACSI for short, was responsible for getting seafood, ocean goods, animal skins and coast vegetation to Cassey and the big cities around it. Placed about one hour outside of San Francisco, Cassey only had a few businesses that reached outside the town's limits, the ACSI spreading the farthest.

The fan's muted whirl filled the small room with a distant hum, whisking the hot air in every direction. The waiting room inside the ACSI was vacant, only the purr of the fan to keep the secretary company. A bell chimed above the door, welcoming its newest guest. He walked with a confident air, eyeing the art pieces hanging on the walls as he headed towards the secretary seated behind a solid oak desk.

Glancing at the nameplate, he replied, "Hello Marie, I'm here to see Mr. Witson."

She raised her brow and tapped a manicured nail onto her nameplate, "That's Madame Sullivan. Bonjour monsieur, do you have an appointment?" Her voice held a French accent.

"No, but I'm sure he'll talk to me."

"Well, Monsieur Witson is very busy and you'll need an appointment. Would you like me to schedule one for you?"

"No, but could you give him a message?"

"I'm sure that can be arranged"

"Just tell him that the forest has multiplied and had more trees"

Her brow rose even higher as she shook her head and sighed. Picking up her phone, she glared slightly at the man and pushed a button.

BEEP! Culvis Witson glared at his phone and reluctantly picked up the call from the front desk.

"What?" his voice hinted at the fact he was angry. His shipments were late coming in and his clients were threatening to go to a different industry. It was the third time this month that the goods were delayed from the weather and he was considering switching to the rainforest industry. Anything would be better than hurricanes and thunderstorms.

"Sorry to bother you Monsieur, but there is a man here who wished to speak to you, without an appointment, and said you would let him in if you heard his message."

"Marie, how many times have I told you that I am very busy and cannot accept foreigners? If he doesn't have an appointment than he can't see me."

"Yes, I told him that, but he insisted and said that if-"

"Marie! Do I have to spell it out for you? Send him away or set him up with an appointment. If he refuses to leave, call security."

"He said he has a message for you."

Witson sighed and massaged his temple. Who was this guy, a threat from another company? "Go on." He urged.

"Of course Monsieur. He said that the forest have multiplied and had more trees."

He sat up in his chair. Mayee.

"Let him in."

"Of course." The phone line went dead.

Culvis leaned back and sighed. Forest. More trouble. The door swung open and there stood Mayee. James Mayee.

"Witson." He replied throatily.

"Mayee." James smiled and sat in the chair opposing Culvis.

"Forest?"

He nodded. "Tanner skimmed the family tree. He had twins."

Culvis swallowed. "Twins?"

"Yes."

Anger flooded him. Tanner used to be their best assassin, until a year ago. He was drinking more, accomplishing less. More and more mistakes were showing up on his record, but he was still killing. It was paperwork like this that he usually got wrong.

"We thought he only had one kid. Well, Tanner told us that. Boy, girl? Give me the details."

James explained the mishap, the complications with adoptions and birth certificates and how it was possible that it wasn't Tanners fault, the government had just buried the information. Suddenly, he began to smile.

Culvis frowned. "What?"

His grin split. "You know how you told me I needed a better spot, how I should get on the inside to help out the ACSI?"

Culvis nodded.

"Well I got a job. I am now a part of the Cassey Franchise Police Department."

"Cassey P.D?"

"Mmhmm. And guess what? Our twin is in Cassey."

"She's here?"

"Yes!"

"Good."

Culvis leaned back and pursed his lips, sucking hard on the warm air. "You know what needs to be done. Tell Tanner that he gets one more chance, or he's out. I'm tired of his constant mistakes, one day it might cost us our job. He is in charge of fixing this. Tell him to go after the girl."

James stood up and nodded. "Yes sir." He walked from the room. Culvis closed his eyes and massaged his temples. He took a deep breath. Twins.


	4. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

Present day

Faith Woods turned left and found another gate, much more easy to open, and flew through that.

The pain was incredible. Now almost her entire arm was numb, hanging limply by her side. The ache had spread up to her neck and a small section of her chest and they both throbbed and pounded with the shock of such an intense fire. The flames of heat and hurt still licked at the wound and she could feel a small trickle of warm blood running down her arm. Her legs began to tire so she cut her motor and slowed.

Turning around once, panic rose in her chest as she realized that no tree was familiar. She wandered through the forest, trying to recognize something, anything. She resisted the urge to cry and blinked slowly.

"Stop this," She murmured, "You're a nineteen-year-old woman, and here you are crying just 'because you're lost." _And you got shot and robbed and who knows what else he did…And you almost got killed and could die out here from loss of blood or maybe a bear will smell the blood and come here and- _she stopped the thought.

_Its O.K to cry,_ a voice inside her head whispered. She shook her head as a tear rolled down her cheek.

"No, it's not." She replied.

_Yesssss…_

"No!" She yelled as a surge of adrenaline flew through her veins.

She raced towards the moon, fleeing from the voice that she knew was right. Her eyes drained all of its emotions and when there was none left to shed, she cried just for the sake of being alone and being able to cry. The moon led her on with a wave of faint light. It seemed to drag her on, leading her farther into the seemingly never-ending forest.

Finally she stopped and sat down on an old fallen log. Putting her head in her hands she sent fingers of consciousness into her predicament and tried to think. What did she know for sure? A man with a dark mask and black pistol broke her window and came into her house and was poking at her furniture, probably looking for something of value. He was probably drunk because of his whiskey-breath and crooked steps and such. She got shot, well barley shot, on the shoulder and now her arm was numb from the pain. Standing up, she started to walk aimlessly, trying not to focus on the fact that she was lost.

Also, she had ran away from the man after narrowly escaping her death and was now lost in a forest, covered in blood. Well, not covered, but her arm was getting pretty sticky. Faith sighed and continued analyzing her night. Walking around a log, she pushed aside a branch and looked up at the stars. She had woken up from a nightmare about… that night and heard a crash, which was probably the window breaking. _More! _She worried. If she were going to go to the police, they would need more info. More about the man. She racked her mind and stepped into a clearing.

Average build. Dark eyes, not very clear. He had a husky, low voice that smelled gross. Also, she had seen too much, which wasn't much, so she probably wasn't supposed to see him, not that mess he'd made. And he was going to kill her. With a pistol. A shiver ran down her spine.

Suddenly a huge shadow loomed in front of her and she stopped. Its door hung crooked and the windows were partly open. Half the shingles were gone, leaving holes and lumps in the roof. Moss blanketed the porch and roof while vines crawled up its walls. An ominous feeling overcame her and she shivered, trying to swallow the feeling of dread that lodged itself in her throat. A loud shout sounded and a coyote ran from the house, leaping from the balcony and into the forest beyond.

Faith's soul jumped. Where there's shouting, there's people and where's there's people, there's help, she thought to herself as she raced towards the house. But as she neared, she began to lose hope. It was a run-down house, most likely dangerous. The shouting had been false, caused by her false hope and imagination. The coyote was running because it was a scary place. If it was scared, she should be too.

She continued on, as if the house was a huge ball of wire and she was the magnet.

The porch creaked as she stepped onto it. The moss silenced her footsteps. _What am I doing? _The door was wide open and she stepped through it quickly. Something gave her the sense that if she lingered, it would fall.

A voice whispered in the night. It carried her through the house. Abandoned furniture littered the floor of every room. The voice became louder.

Suddenly she felt something snap beneath her and a small slit of pain sliced up her foot. A crack exploded into the air. She started and looked back. It was a stick, a mere twig she had stepped on. Nothing to be afraid of. She took a step, still looking back and tripped. She put her hands forward and looked up. Falling into a door, she pushed it open. A figure stood in the middle of the room.

"Oh thank God! I was robbed and got lost running away and-"she caught herself mid sentence.

The man wore a long black trench coat and big, black boots. A gun dangled from his hip and a dark cowboy hat covered his curly brown locks. She gasped as one of his large hands went down to his gun, the other one up to his ear. He slowly turned around.

Coming here had been a bad idea, a very bad idea. Her heart beat wickedly in her chest and she almost shook with the effort. Panic rose in her gut as she stumbled back. Her feet clipped un-even ground as she fell backwards into air.

Landing hard, all of a sudden her head snapped up and took in her surroundings. This room was a mess. It had once been a kitchen and a table crookedly wobbled to the left. Glass was in small, uneven piles and she could see bits of chair legs. The walls were an eerie blue with pink stripes and there were drops of the paint everywhere.

She stared wide-eyed as the man took a step towards her. His eyes seemed to glow and without warning, a bright light flashed and her neck jerked. She blinked, expecting to see the room but instead saw a man with a chiseled face and square jaw. He had matted, black air and thick lips. His ripped clothing hung loosely and a small gob of spittle fell from his mouth. Faith goggled at the man lumbering towards her, the man who had ruined her past, haunted her dreams and controlled her future. Tears filled her eyes as the past took over the future.

Stephen Lightridge stared at the girl cowering by the far wall. As she had run in he, expecting danger, had reached for his gun out of pure instinct. Now she sat quivering by the wall staring at him with glassy blue eyes. What had she said? She'd been robbed?

Her eyes were dripping in fear while bed-head hair framed her face. Her silk nightgown was ripped and dirty and her feet were covered in grime. The rest of her skin was red, including her face. She was medium height. As pretty as her crystal eyes were, they seemed distant and full of fear, almost as if she was dreaming.

He took a tentative step towards the girl and she flinched. Whispering something her hands twitched by her sides. They were white at the knuckles and clenched hard. He took another step. She flinched. Another step. Another flinch. Her hands lifted up to her throat and a tear rolled down her cheek. A look of pure innocence and confusion overtook her face and her chin quivered.

The air strained to breathe, full of tension and wanting as he took another step.

"Daddy no…" her pleading voice was barely audible. _What in the world… God, help me. _His head swarmed for answers and he reviewed his skill. This was what he'd been trained for. The girl shut her eyes and took a shuddering breath. What was she doing? This seemed much more complicated than robbery. Maybe she had been raped. But she had said something about her daddy. Sexual abuse from her father?

He lifted and set down his foot. She flinched again. He took another step and in his most business-like voice replied. "Ma'am we're going to get you some help. Please step away from the wall and-"

"Daddy no!" Suddenly she jumped up and shrieked. Her arm flashed from her side and slapped his arm. He caught her arm, winced and let go. It was ice cold. Years of training flew through his head. _Dear God… _he prayed. Instinctively he grabbed her arm again and held tight. He then gently pushed her against the wall and pressed his other hand up against her stomach and held her so she was stuck on that wall in case she decided to make any other bold moves.

Her eyes stared at his, full of pure terror. They were the bluest eyes he had ever seen. The tears were gone now, replaced by a distant pain that made him want to hold her and hug the hurt away. Suddenly her eyes flashed and they looked into his, now into this reality. The fear drained and was replaced by curiosity, not seeming to notice his hands holding her against the wall. He let go and took a step away from her. The girl looked up at him and he was suddenly eager to know her name. Calling her 'the girl' was unfitting for such a deserving woman.

"Ma'am, I'm going to get you some help. You said you were robbed?" She did not say or do anything. He decided a different approach. "My name is Stephen Lightridge, Police officer from Cassey P.D, and I am pleased to help you in your…umm, predicament." Holding out his hand, he smiled in a businesslike manner. Still no response from those blue eyes. She just stared, expression seeming lost. _Come on…_ "Hello?" he replied.

She blinked. "Oh, hi, I'm…umm… Faith Woods. Thanks."

Faith Woods, a different name. He would have expected a more familiar name for such a pretty face. Maybe a Rebecca Anderson or a Jessica Black. She smiled, and he forced himself to look away. Man, she was pretty. He tried to focus on his job. This, Faith Woods, had been robbed and it was his duty to help her. He realized that he still hadn't replied. Clearing his throat he reached into his pocket.

Her smile quickly faded. Despite her kind smile and easy tone, he realized she was terrified and cautious. Stephen pulled out a notepad. She relaxed.

"So, you were robbed?" he questioned.

She nodded.

"Did you see the thief's face?"

Another nod.

"Can you remember the sequence of events that happened from first to last?"

Another nod.

"Would you be able to describe the thief's appearance?"

Nod.

"Right now?"

Finally she replied. "Mmhmm."

He flipped open his notepad and gripped his pen. Silence. He looked up at Faith, eyebrows raised questionably.

"Oh, well he was dressed in black and had a gun…umm he had a ripped jacket." Her brow furrowed in concentration.

Stephen looked up and saw she was staring at him, eyes glassy. _Not again._ He groaned inwardly

"Maybe we should do this another time," he suggested. She nodded and slid down along the wall, until she was sitting with her head cradled in her hands. He turned away and reached for his phone.


	5. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

Faith squinted through her tears at the man pacing on the floor. Stephen Lightridge. Interesting name, she thought. She sighed, causing him to glance her way. She looked away. Faith hated to have to cry again in front of this man. _Oh well, _she decided, _it's his job, isn't it? _She glanced at him.

He paced back and forth, rapidly explaining their situation into an earpiece. He had sea-green eyes and an American accent. One hand was up at his ear, the other holding a phone. His voice filled her ears. "…Yes, she says that she ran away from a thief and found this house… no I haven't yet, she isn't very eager to be questioned. The girls scared, you can't just expect me to throw questions at her and her to be eager to answer them…Well, yes I know it's my job, but she's just a kid, barley out of high school. Yes, I'm just checking in as I'm supposed to. Ok, I'll call you back. Bye."

She shivered as she remembered her memories. More tears came. _Come on, _she whined to herself, _I can't cry that much, my eyes are gonna have to dry up some time! _ He turned to look at her, staring into her eyes before turning away. "You're going to have to lead me to your house so the police and forensics' can get started. Your house will become a crime scene." He said this emotionlessly, as if the fact that police would swarm her house was a casual topic.

"I'm lost." She simply stated.

He blinked. "You don't know where you live?"

" Oh, well I live in Acre View estates but I was running away from the man who broke into my house and probably robbed me, because he had a gun, and so I got lost in this forest and-"

"Wait," he cut in, "he had a gun, were you shot?"

"Well, I…umm." Faith glanced at her shoulder and again felt the intense pain and saw the sticky trail the shot had made. She closed her eyes at the sudden throb and took a deep breath through her nostrils. She opened her eyes to see Stephen follow her gaze and snatch up his phone after seeing the blood.

"Hello Ariel, look my client was shot in the shoulder and she is lost, could you send us a car to pick us up? Thanks, O.K. Yes… I know. Well, I didn't plan to run into her. Yes, it's a girl." He sighed and stared at the wall, and annoyed expression playing on his face as he rolled his eyes. "Of course it's an emergency! She was robbed and shot and is bleeding- look, she's just a mess so please hurry. Thank you. Good bye." Looking at her, he shut his phone. An anticipant feeling flew through her as she stood up and followed Stephen out of the house. Stepping through a door, her eyes swept to every corner and shadow. Stephen eyed her carefully.

With a relentless urge to breathe fresh air, feel the ground beneath her and see the stars, Faiths pace quickened until she had passed Stephen and was striding hard for the front door. Finally, moonlight rushed to greet them as cool wind whipped through her clothes. The grass was crisp with a new layer of frost and the tree's whispers were like an angel's chorus as relief consumed her to be out in the open instead of inside musty, rotten walls.

Darkness blanketed the earthen ground. Fallen leaves cracked under their feet and moss silenced their soles. The dimly light forest hugged the earth while an owl's call pierced the still air. Reaching the driveway, they stopped and Faith eyed Stephen curiously, questions rampaging her head.

"So," she queried, rocking back on her heels, "why were you out here at this time of night in an old abandoned house?"

"I couldn't sleep." He shrugged. "So I decided to take a long walk. They usually help clear my head, and I couldn't stop thinking. Went down a path I hadn't taken before and after a while, found this house." He pointed. "Kind of reminded me of my own house, the layout and colors. My mom's an artist, and so she painted rooms with stripes and dots and strange colors that most people wouldn't put together, but they matched all the same. I had only started when you found me."

"So I guess that wolf ran away from your scream?"

"I didn't scream. I shouted." He gave her an easy grin and shrugged. "The wolf was in one of the rooms and I scared him off."

Without warning, headlights trespassed through the guarding trees. They walked to the shiny black limousine waiting for them. Stephen opened the door, letting Faith enter first. She slid onto the leather chairs, embarrassed at how her nightgown smudged the seats. Stephen slid beside her and pulled out a small red first-aid kit from beneath the seat. He produced a wad of cotton, rubbing alcohol, a cloth, gauze and a bandage. A window that separated the chauffer and them opened as the driver politely asked, "where to?"

Stephen looked at her. She blinked. "Oh, umm Acre View estates, number twenty-two oh-four." She hesitantly answered. The driver nodded and the window rolled up.

Stephen reached towards a mini fridge and wet the cloth with a bottle of water. Faith sighed, letting emotions and thoughts roll around in her head. Stephen reached towards her bloody arm. She flinched and jumped away. After the fear drained away, Stephen slowly began to proceed. Pain seared through her limbs and her arm went numb again. The flames of hurt lapped at her consciousness and she felt reality slip away. _No, I can't pass out, not now. Please not now. _She gasped and his eyes narrowed. "Stop moving." He murmured.

"It hurts, though. A lot."

No comment from him. She stole a glance his way and saw him push the cloth onto her shoulder. She gasped and bit her tongue.

After ten minutes of her inching away and him sliding closer, Faith was halfway off the leather seats and she had gauze smothered on her wound. Stephen put the bloodied cloth on the floor and gently wrapped her shoulder in a bandage.

Leaning back, Stephen looked relieved.

Fields and pastures flew by. _I ran all this way? _Faith wondered.

"You sure you live in Acre View?" Stephen looked at her.

"Yes," Faith replied, puzzled. "Why?"

Pinewoods and farms entered and dispersed from his view. He pursed his lips and leaned back. "Oh, no reason." He muttered.

He pondered other cases like this. Faith Woods. Interesting name. Hmm… Woods, it sounded familiar. Elizabeth Woods, no Isan-Isam… It hit him. Isabella Woods. Parents died in a fight. Alcohol involved. Isabella was only five at the time. Mother was a strong Christian. He looked at Faith. They would be around the same age.

The sound of sirens broke him from his thoughts. He jumped. Faith stared at him strangely. He grinned lamely and she giggled. His mind suddenly paused and his heart skipped a beat. The sound of her giggle was like chimes in the wind. He stopped the thought and looked down.

"You wouldn't happen to know an Isabella Woods, would you?"

"Isabella?" her shaky voice lifted his gaze. She looked down.

"Yes, Isabella Woods, do you know her?"

"No, I don't know her. I don't think we're related either. Woods, hmm? No I don't think so. You know I didn't really get together with cousins very much, so I don't think we've met, if we were related. Why, did you know her? Is she a friend? Or is she from another case. Not that she would be, right?"She attempted a casual smile. "Like she didn't die or anything. Yes, now that I think about it I didn't know any Isabella, or do know one for that matter." She shrugged. "No, I don't think I know an Isabella Woods."

Her rapid tongue left him speechless. Stephen blinked. She was a horrible liar. He nodded.

The car lurched to a stop as Faith's head jerked up. The door opened and Stephen stepped out. She hesitantly received his hand as he escorted her out and she stepped from the vehicle.

A small cottage rested inside a whitewashed fence. Beyond the house, a structure slightly smaller than a barn had a similar fence encircling it. A beautiful auburn mare stood by the barn; it's silver hair flying lightly in the breeze. Behind the barn, a forest cradled the remaining land. Police cars sat near the cottage and yellow tape was wrapped protectively around its figure. Cop's swarmed the area.

Faith immediately stepped into the crowd of police and strode towards her house. Stephen took a deep breath and followed her, though not so confidently. Crowds had always unnerved him. He shouldered his way through the swarm, struggling to keep up with Faith; she was nearly running now.

A few police stopped, raising eyebrows as Faith rushed past them. She didn't glance their way, instead focusing on the cottage that lay before them. Stephen felt a nudge on his elbow and turned to look. Alex Eeyam stood staring at Faith, an easy grin tugging on his mouth.

"Nice fish you managed to pull from the sea. Where'd you find her, playboy mansion?" Alex whistled.

Stephen groaned inwardly at Alex's tone and the way his lustful gaze followed Faith's every curve. Alex was a player and, unfortunately, a great homicide cop. "Look Alex, she's already hurt so don't get any ideas." He warned.

Alex fended his hands in mock defense. "Whoa, sorry. Didn't think little Mr. Unromantic would be so protective of his chick."

"Just don't." he shook his head. "Stay away from her."

He stepped away and looked for Faith. He spotted her gesturing anxiously to another cop he recognized as Ariel Graketon. Ariel caught his eye and ushered him urgently. He walked towards them.

"Hello Ariel." He nodded, "what seems to be the problem?"

"Well, this girl-"

"Faith," he interrupted. She nodded.

"Faith says that she has to go into her house, but she can't because we just started dusting for prints." Ariel looked at Stephen for support.

"Well, this is her house, but the Police does have a right, and fingerprints are very important." He looked at Faith.

She looked frantic, eyes widening. "But what about a citizen's right? The whole human rights thing and doing everything for the sake of the people? I bought this house, you know, I should be able to go into it!"

"Do you want us to catch this guy? What about justice and helping the community? We're not preventing you from your property; we just don't want to risk missing something that could break this case."

"He was wearing gloves." Faith muttered.

"What?" Ariel asked.

"Gloves." Faith stared hard at Ariel. "Means no prints. All you'll find are mine. I had the neighbors over on Wednesday and cleaned the house Thursday. I was gone this last Sunday to Tuesday in San Francisco for work. Now, can I please go inside?"

Ariel stared at her in shock. Stephen joined her. When had the scared, quiet girl been replaced by the firm, almost confident one? He shook off the surprise and nodded.

"Yes." Replied Stephen, who guided her towards the door.

"Stay away from the living room and hallway connecting!" Ariel shouted from behind them. Stephen waved his hand to tell her he heard. At the doors frame he stopped, unsure of what to do next. Faith grabbed the handle and walked through the door; Stephen reluctantly followed and stepped into the home of Faith Woods.


	6. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Stephen stood in awe, staring at Faith's house. As Faith had rushed from the entryway, Stephen had stopped to look around. Faith was rich.

The layout of the small cottage was unique and elaborate, suggesting she had built it herself. All the colors were distinct and matching and made the whole house flow with splashes of brightness and regal beauty. From the entryway where he had started there was a glass half wall that split the room into two. One side was the entryway: a glass door with stained glass windows on both sides and an elaborate throw rug lying beside an open closet that boasted shelves full of shoes, coats and scarves. A hallway snaked away from it to the right. The other side had a small opening in the glass half wall and a piano and another rug. A few shelves lined the sidewalls full of thick novels and a railing about one square meter sat in the exact middle of the room. As he passed from the first room to the second, he saw that the railing had an opening and that it was a stairwell that spiraled down to the basement. A doorway he saw beside a bookcase led to a kitchen.

Walking back to the entryway, he entered the hallway and found it led to the master bedroom with a bathroom on the way and a living room with broken glass on the other end. _This must be the hallway I'm not supposed to be in. _He reminded himself.

The bedroom had a large king bed and sweeping drapes that covered a wide window with sliding doors leading to a wooden balcony with an amazing view of the forest behind Faiths house. A tapestry painting lined the wall and a few framed pictures that had been drawn hung above the bed. He walked from the room into the master bathroom made from marble and glass, a large jet hot tub and shower and sink. Then from that room came a connecting dressing room. Three huge mirrors that slid away to show large railings with clothes hung on them sat on the east wall. On the walls were more pictures and paintings. Shoe racks lined the other walls and were full of elaborate heels and sandals. A thick counter ran beside the door he came from that had a few small figurines made to hold jewelry. They held rings and earrings made from gold and gems.

He found his way back to the entryway and headed towards the basement. He took a deep breath and stepped lightly on the stairs. What he saw took his breath away.

Tapestry paintings hung on the walls. Deep colors on the furniture and walls. Large expensive figurines and statues sat in between overstuffed couches that swept up from the floor. He continued to explore her house.

It was formal, yet simple and perfect enough to be comfortable. Yet, it seemed vaguely unlived in. Only a couple things puzzled him. Usually, a person's house would be filled with pictures of them. Their family and friends and fun events that had happened in the past. Faith's house only had man-made pictures, paintings and drawings and scenery photographs. It appeared she had no family, or felt no need to be surrounded by the ones who loved her.

Also, a person's house usually let him figure out their personality and attitude, how to approach them. But Faith's house was like a cryptic lock whose key was thrown away and never looked for again. Faith had seemed terrified and hidden when he found her. Then with Ariel she was firm and braver. Now her house said she was whimsical, slow to talk and quick to think. But that was only in some rooms.

Some rooms were beautiful, full of artifacts and paintings with large wool rugs that covered most of the wooden floors. Furniture that all matched and fitted in perfect position, sweeping up from the floor and stuffed with pillows. Some rooms were filled with technology and some only had a light switch to prove it wasn't in the 18th century.

As different as the moods in all these rooms, they all agreed on one thing. Faith was a neat freak. Every pillow and panting was perfectly balanced and placed and every bookcase was in alphabetical order. Organization ruled the house in every room, except one. Her office.

Faith's office was a large room with a thick desk hugging the edge of 3 walls. She had a laptop and computer stacked upon it as well as a fax machine and printer. Papers crowded the desk, floor and garbage and pens lay beside the papers. Two large filing cabinets sat on either side of the door with smaller ones beneath parts of the desk. A window surveyed the disaster above the desk on the far wall.

Stephen chuckled as he closed the door behind him and walked up the stairs to the kitchen. He saw that yellow tape had been stretched across the entryway to the hallway leading to the living room. Ariel shouted orders to a few forensics dusting at furniture.

He found Faith in the kitchen, sipping a glass of water with her eyes closed. "Hello," she replied, eyelids fluttering open. She attempted a smile. Stephen groaned inwardly. Another mood change. She was impossible.

"You have a beautiful house." He said.

"Thank you."

"Do you mind if I start questioning now?" Stephen asked. Faith shook her head. "Ok well I'll need you to start at the beginning, where he found you, what he was doing, and every detail counts. Then I'll need you to show me where you ran and how far you got until you lost him." He pulled out his notepad as he finished.

Faith nodded and began.


	7. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

James knocked on the door and after hearing the 'ok', stepped in. Culvis Witson sat behind his desk, facing James.

" Did you do what I asked?"

" The first target was already dead, but the other one…"

" What? Missed? I knew this would happen. You should've gone instead of Tanner. Where is he?"

" I don't know."

" Find him immediately!"

" Yes sir."

James sat outside of Witson's door, listening to the conversation-taking place inside. An occasional cuss word. Bitter tones and shouting. James smiled. He had always hated Tanner. Now he was just getting what he deserved. Finding him had been easy. At the bar as usual, having a beer. James ginned wryly. Last beer he'll ever have.

The door opened. " No, you can't do this to me. I am the best assassin that you've ever had. This is a mistake." Two large bodyguards that James recognized as Shane Leverl and Wayne Grackser, the company's best, shoved Tanner out of the room. Witson walked out behind them and looked at James.

Without averting his gaze, he stepped up to Tanner and slapped him. Tanner grunted and glared at James. His cheek started to turn red.

" So," Witson said, still looking at James, " You think you can finish the job?" Tanner paled.

James grinned, knowing what would come next. " Absolutely."

Tanner turned a shade lighter and turned to Witson. " Do you even know what you're doing? You can't do this! This-this wimp comes in and you think you can just replace me?" He pointed at James. " Well you thought wrong! This idiot can't even tie his shoes without me, let alone hunt and kill our enemies! You need me! And if you dare even think about-" James saw Tanners hand slowly inch its way towards his pocket. "Doing this to me, I will hunt you down myself! Do you know how hard-" Closer. James showed Grackser with his gaze where Tanners hand was heading. " I've had to work to get to this position?" Tanner's hand was now reaching into his pocket.

Suddenly, Grackser's fist fell onto Tanners head. He slumped limp, dropped his head and fell into a heap on the tiled floor. Witson, still looking at James, replied, "Finish him."

James stepped up to Tanner, bent down and reached into his pocket to see what he had been reaching for. He pulled out switchblade and flipped it open. Placing the blade at Tanners neck, he chuckled and murmured, " Say good-bye."


	8. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

Ariel pulled Stephen aside.

Since his house was the only one with a guest room, and Faith didn't have anyone else to stay with, she'd moved into his house. Until the forensics was done in her house, she was sleeping in his guest room. Because the criminal who had shot at Faith wasn't in custody yet, she had to be protected for a week. Or until he was found and put behind bars.

" Faith was right, all we found are her prints." Ariel replied. "Nothing goes to the press without Walton's O.K."

Stephen nodded. He knew what a pain the press could be. He glanced at his watch. 6:07, bad time to start a day. He stifled a yawn. " Who's on our team?" he wondered.

" For D.N.A, we have Jane Reld, and for officers we have you, me, Alex Eeyam-"

" Alex Eeyam? He's on homicide!" he cut her off.

" Yes, well this was attempted murder, so Walton put him on the case. Anyway, we also have Debbie Anderson and Craig Bunt." He nodded and she nodded back. Ariel stepped back to catch Alex on his way to his car.

Stephen frowned. He didn't trust Alex. Just the mention of his name sent warning bells ringing in his head. Alex was new, becoming a Police officer only four months ago. Stephen was only suspicious because of the way he'd raised. Already, Alex was in the same position as Stephen. It had taken Stephen nearly a year to gain this position, but for Alex, four months.

He shook his head, rolling his eyes at the way Alex eyed Ariel. Walking away from them and towards his car, Stephen appreciated the sunrise. Long streaks of golden light stretched across Faith's yard. The birds and bugs muted chorus pleasantly arose from the land. The grass sparkled with dew and the trees looked as though they were on fire. A splash of amber on a sky of light pink and golden rays. Stephen chuckled as he backed out of Faith's driveway and headed towards his house.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

It had been a long three days of grueling nothing. No leads had been found, and hardly any evidence had been recovered.

They now referred to the case as A.M, short for attempted murder. Calling it the Woods case was fine too, but A.M had seemed to fit.

They'd found that the window had been shot with a 9mm pistol. They had retraced the bullet to a dead man. The gun had been stolen. Multiple other bullets found in the yard and in trees were of the same make. No fingerprints. No threads or pieces of clothing. They were just beginning to work on routes and shoeprints.

Faith had provided no more information. She had been gone in San Francisco for work for most of this last week. She was an artist, a painter and drawer, famous for black and white sketches that portrayed nature at its greatest. She had no enemies and provided on the surface answers.

Her description of the robber had led them no farther. Medium height and build, not fat, but not thin. Dark eyes and dark hair with a raspy voice that smelt of whiskey. About the same characteristic's as most middle-aged men.

Ariel and Stephen switched days and nights for watching Faith and protecting. It was protocol to have night shifts, guardians, and make sure that they were secure. He thought that he saw Faith smile more with Ariel, at least act more open, but it was probably just some girl-connection.

Most times when they met in his house, she closed up and made polite small talk. Only a few times she had showed her true self. And Stephen was beginning to like her more and more.

One time she had been eating lunch at the table in his kitchen when he walked in. She looked up and they held stares. Minuets passed and Stephen recalled having wanted it to never end. Her bright blue eyes staring into his sea green ones, with no one else around and no reason to stop. She had blushed and looked down, then closed up again and resumed with her eating, occasionally adding small talk as he fixed himself lunch.

Faith was so beautiful, and so sweet and young. Stephen himself was only twenty-three and wanting to get into a relationship. Faith drew him to her. Every time he wanted to pull her into her arms, or when they stumbled and got close, she pulled into her shell and awkwardly stepped away. It drove him crazy. Her, living in his house and still trying to hide, and him, wanting to be friends and have it taken away.

Yesterday, Faith had asked him how the case was going. How could he reply to that? He knew that she wanted to go back to her ways in her house and leave this case behind and it hurt. She obviously didn't feel the same energy that he did, but it still made him want to keep her here. He had replied with the usual, "We are making progress," which could mean anything. He thought she had caught the generality, but she didn't hint at it.

For the first day, nothing changed. Stephen had taken Faith to the police station to review cases and to question her. Faith had flipped through multiple pages of pictures of suspects while Stephen had filled out form after form about the night he had met her. An occasion questioning occurred when Stephen had taken Faith into a windowless room and asked multiple questions about that night. She had answered respectively, and hadn't showed much of her heart, only answering on the surface.

After lunch, his boss, Walton, had asked if he could question Faith for a while. Stephen didn't know what had happened during those few hours, but Faith had seemed a little different. He had wanted to ask her about it, but time ran away from him.

Then on the next day, things changed. They had gotten the bullets back from the lab and chased down a Fredrick Smalley, only to be disheartened at the fact that he had died of a heart attack two years ago. His gun had been reported stolen about three years ago. When Stephen had told Faith that they might have a lead, her whole demeanor had changed.

Her face had lit up and she attempted a smile. He had assumed it was because she wanted to bring him to justice, but now he was having doubts that maybe she just wanted to go home. When she smiled, it stirred a feeling in his stomach that he had never felt before. He had smiled back and she looked away, blushing.

Everyday, he looked for a sign that maybe she was feeling the same way that he was. That maybe when he stared into her eyes she was looking into his to find the same thing. That she didn't want to leave and go back to a normal life; that she wanted to spend more time with him. That she wanted to laugh and talk with him, to sit under the stars and become great friends. Maybe more.

But it was useless. She was being polite because he was letting her live with him, nothing more. She probably thought he was too old for her, or her heart had already been broken and she wasn't looking for a relationship. But still, it couldn't hurt to dream, could it?

It was hopeless. The next day, they continued their normal routine and tasks. He sensed that Walton was letting him have the easier tasks, since he was in some way related to the victim and had other matters to deal with. He was always available if Faith ever wanted to leave, but the opportunity never came.

Every night he read his bible and called out to God. He knew that God was somehow involved here, but he couldn't figure it out. If God wanted him and Faith to be together, why wasn't Faith feeling the same way? He tried to let go of his emotional battle and view Faith as just another victim that he was here to protect. But somehow, he couldn't. He kept coming back to Jeremiah 29:11: " For I know the plans I have for you," says the Lord. "They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope."

If God knew everything about him, about what was going to happen to him, then why wasn't he so sure? The case wasn't going anywhere, Faith wasn't opening up and Stephen's heart was being rocked with the sureness of her denial of him.

Faith's smile, her attitude, her posture and shape, everything about her was so perfect and beautiful. He wanted to get to know her and become friends, but Faith wasn't in the same boat. Why was God making him feel like this? Every time he went to say something to Faith, he would pray to God and hope it was the right thing. Faith would smile politely, then look away, or switch the conversation to small talk. Again.

She seemed shaken by any mention of the case or of her past and usually changed the subject from herself to him. Talk of his life, career, past, and compliments on his plain house and habits.

Walton said that he had called for a sketch artist to come in on day two, but since the closest available organization was in San Francisco, it would take a few days. Hopefully this would give them a better idea of their few leads. The man had been wearing a mask, and the dark of the night gave the criminal the advantage.

This morning, Ariel had approached him. "There's a sketch artist coming in at noon. Hopefully that will give us some leads to chase."

Stephen nodded. He knew how hard it would be for Faith to recall the face of the criminal. Stephen had walked to his car and gotten ready to drive to his house.

Here it goes.


	10. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

" Faith…Faith," Faith heard her name being called softly and opened one eye to see Stephen leaning in through the doorway. Her doorway. She was comfy enough where she was. Five more minutes.

" Come on sleepy head. Get up." Stephen's gentle voice nudged her and the light snapped on. She groaned, rolling over and pulling the pillow over her head. The blankets were so soft, the mattress so inviting. The pillows were so feathery, soft, and warm…

" Faith…"

All of a sudden, the memories of that night collided into her. She opened her eyes, horrified of what was in the dark. Stephen had stepped into the room, closer now. Faith slipped out of the bed and made a shooing motion with her hand.

He smiled and stepped out.

The room she was in had a walk-in closet and a connecting bedroom. Stepping into the bathroom she washed sleep from herself in a hot shower. Under the steaming water, she let her thoughts drift. Stephen was really cute, and very nice and welcoming. Maybe if he felt the same way she did, they could be friends. But she knew he was only trying to be polite. She stepped out of the shower and into the closet. Moments after she dressed, she made her bed and stepped out of her room.

Faith walked through Stephens house and found him in the kitchen, eating an omelet. She strode lightly towards the table. Clearing her throat, Stephen looked up.

" Good morning." She said pleasantly.

Stephen nodded. " How was your sleep?"

She replied with the usual small talk that came with the awkward air. " Great,"

He looked at her and said, " There's a person coming in at noon who is going to draw the robber based on your description of him," he paused as Faith rolled her eyes, " so-"

" So you can get a sketch that looks like him so you can compare it to other suspects and cases similar to this one." She cut him off.

Stephen looked puzzled, " How did you know?"

Faith caught herself. " We- I mean I was a witness for a murder when I was seventeen."

Stephen caught the stutter, " Which murder?"

_Crap._ " You wouldn't know it, it happened in Canada."

" I might, who was the victim?"

" Umm," Faith fought to think of a name. Who did she know that was shot? _Or murdered, _she remembered. " Mary-Anne Woods. She's not related to me that we knew of, but we were best friends. Sometimes, we would introduce ourselves as sisters, since she was a year older than me, and most thought we looked alike." She chuckled nervously, trying to clothe the lie in her voice. " We always thought it funny, us having the same last name. Good old Mary-Anne…" Faith stared slightly past Stephen, as if looking into the past. " Me and her, best friends."

The warning bells went off in Stephen's head. Something was up. " Did she live by you?" he asked.

Faith was starring off into space. " Just down the block."

In all his years of training, he'd learned to read people. She was lying. The way she drifted her gaze when she talked and hesitated often. And her eyes. They were wide and panicked, but the pain was real. Oddly enough, she was still beautiful. He shook away the thought. " Anyway, the sketch artist is coming in at noon." He glanced up and saw her eyes flash in relief. She was definitely lying.

" Do you want breakfast? We've got toast and eggs."

Faith shook her head and turned away. " No thanks, I'm not hungry."

Stephen raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. Her tone seemed choked. Almost as if the mention of breakfast brought her to tears. Or Mary-Anne.

Faith stepped out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

He made a mental note to check out the name Mary-Anne Woods. Whoever she was, he wanted to know what happened to her and if Faith was lying.

Why was Faith so emotional? Everything that happened seemed to bring up some sort of memory that made her cry. She couldn't be that scarred, could she? Or maybe it was the fact that she had recently been shot at.

Stephen vowed to find out Faiths past, if he finished this case or not.


	11. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

Faith shuddered, refusing to cry.

The sketch artist was talking to Stephen, handing him the paper with the suspect sketched onto its frail whiteness. Stephen frowned and gestured towards her. The artist shook his head.

Tears pressured her eyes, trying to break the barriers that shielded her. This had been the hardest thing since, well, since fourteen years ago. She watched as Stephen stormed out of the room. What was his problem? She shrugged and once again felt a lump firmly lodge itself in her throat. Faith tried to divert her thoughts to something other than the situation at hand.

Why Stephen was so excited, she didn't know. The sketch probably wasn't that accurate, since a mask covered most of his face. And besides, she had been more concentrated on staying alive than getting a good look at him, so he was mainly made up of fragments of her memory. Faith blinked back the urge to cry and leaned against the wall as the memories tried to overpower her.

This experience was so similar to her childhood; she couldn't help but be attacked by her past. Every time she let her guard down, images pressed onto her and she had to occupy her mind with something else. The art on the wall, the scenery outside, anything that could keep her mind from being active among her memories. She blinked and closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. What else as there to think about other than what had just happened? Her head started to get active and she zoned out, letting that night attack her.

A man with ripped clothing and a dark mask poked at her couches with a black pistol. Glass cluttered the floor and her north-facing window was bare. Cool wind fluttered through the opening, trying to escape the dark moonlit night.

Faith pushed the memories away and pressed her palms to her temples. What is wrong with me? She wondered, anxiety filling her. _Howls filtered in on the wind gently filled the scene as the man turned from her furniture. _She squeezed her eyes shut. _Their eyes met. His eyes narrowed, hers widened._

" Stop it." She quietly whispered, begging her mind to quit being so active. Her breath caught and her shoulders shook as she took a deep breath. Black dots blinked at the edge of her vision.

The only time anything had been vaguely similar to this was when she first met Stephen, but that had been one memory, one time, one moment. It was totally irrelevant to this barricade of insanity crashing down on her barrier of life slowly disintegrating under each blow.

Desperation screamed at her. A fuzzy hand lashed out at her arm and she flinched and yelped only to be swarmed by light and realize it was only a false image. Hysteria clamped down hard on her throat as she tried to push it off and pull air into her lungs. The air turned on her and threw itself into her mouth. Faith coughed and gasped for a breath.

As she ripped through her house, she felt gunshots haunting her every step…Bam! A bullet sliced through the air, licking her shoulder…She raced through the undergrowth, leaping logs and skirting plants.

She moaned and bent over her knees. " Stop… No, please." Pleading to nothing and no one, she felt pain slice through her chest. The long, cool black barrel of a pistol flashed in front of her eyes. She groaned as black dots blinked in and out of her minds eye. The black ate up her vision, varying in large bites and tiny nibbles, flashing in faces and memories. The sweet smell of whiskey meandered among the collage of faces, stirring up hated events. Emotions stabbed at her heart; anger, fear, desperation and pain. Soon all she could see was a pinprick of light barley shining through all the fuzzy black voids of memories. This had never happened to her before. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision. Suddenly, she was swarmed with light as the black faded.

Her knees collapsed and she fell to the floor. A deathly laugh filled her ears and she clamped her hands over them. " _You've seen too much…seen too much."_ Husky voices echoed, overlapping themselves amid her head.

" Stop it! Get away! No, no!" Faith was rolling and kicking at the air. She needed to get out, needed to be free. Black shapes began forming rapidly, appearing and dispersing in and out of her line of sight. Hysteria smothered her mouth and throat as she struggled to breathe. She could feel a hand up against her throat, strangling her and heard cruel shouts echo in her head. Darth's face blinked, just before her face and she snarled and tried to push him aside.

She was vaguely aware of Ariel kneeling by her side, asking what was wrong. Faith gasped for air and tried to grasp the small bit of sanity that still remained, tried desperately to push the images away from her, tried to ease the anxiety and hopelessness that smothered her. But all she could see was the man in black, hear the blood pounding in her ears, feel the panic and sickening fear whenever the gun boomed, sense death and smell his horribly sweet victorious scent.

Her eyes flew open and she turned around to come face to face with the barrel of a black pistol.

" _I'm afraid you've seen too much," he whispered hoarsely in a husky voice. _

" No!" Faith screamed as the blackness overtook her.


	12. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

"It's a positive match for Bob Tanner."

" What?" Walton grabbed the sketch from Stephen and stormed into his office. Stephen wordlessly followed. " Tanner? But…Why that little brat." He swore under his breath.

Confusion clouded Stephen's thoughts. " Sir, may I ask what's wrong?' Stephen knew that Tanner had been in association with the F.B.I, with what he did not know, for several years, but he had heard nothing of him ever since.

Walton turned his steely gaze to Stephen. He looked down. " Tanner worked for us as a witness and basically an information object. Crime was high in those times, and when he joined us, more crime happened, but none of us made the connection fast enough. It was actually your dad who first caught on." Walton looked thoughtful. He put down the sketch. " Tanner was arrested for murder, robbery, assault. Two years later, he escaped from jail. We never heard from him since." He stared hard at Stephen. " If it actually was Tanner who robbed and shot Faith, that means he's getting sloppy. We might be able to catch him if he continues like this."

Stephen caught the 'if'. " And if it wasn't Tanner?"

Walton shrugged. " Well, it's the only lead we have, but trusting one witness…" He scrunched his brow. " If it wasn't just Tanner, he'd be part of some sort of hit man group, that just happened to have Faith on it's hit list." His gaze lifted to Stephens. " But now I need you to find out more about Faith, her family, friends, background- reasons why she would be killed, or wanted to be killed."

He pulled out a few files and picked up the phone. " I'll send out a couple investigators to find Tanner. Nothing goes to the press. And also, can you stop by at the lab; see what they've got from Faiths house and the scene so far, ok? Get back to me." He averted his gaze from his work to Stephen. "Then you can go find Faith and get me some info. The sooner we figure out this case, the better."

Stephen nodded and walked from Walton's office. His mind was so engrossed in Faith, he hardly heard Walton ask about the case. He sighed as he strode to his car. More questioning was definitely what Faith didn't need. She needed a break. Maybe he could stir up a few background questions in a casual conversation. He started the engine. Pulling out of his parking space he let a few options jump around. Who her family was, where she was from, that seemed innocent enough, right? He switched lanes and turned onto his street.

Remembering Walton's request, he reached for his phone. Ariel would know about their progress and then he'd ask Jane about any DNA found. Stephens mind switched back to Faith.

Ok, so maybe she was a bit sensitive, but this couldn't hurt. He let a few situations roll around in his head. Take her out, go for a walk, have some coffee. Those all proved to be conversational places. He didn't want to hurt her by asking the wrong thing or in the wrong way. He needed her trust if he was going to finish this case. Seeing his house up ahead, his heart beat faster.

If only he could see her smile again, or spend more time with her, then maybe he could figure her out. He absentmindedly pressed on the gas pedal while he remembered how her tinkling giggle had made his heart pause. If only she would laugh more often, then she might be more willing to be questioned. If only she wasn't a victim then maybe they could learn to be friends. Or maybe more.

Looking at his phone, Stephen dialed Ariel's number and looked up, putting the phone by his ear.

He blinked to see his garage door rapidly approaching his truck. He slammed on the breaks as his head flew up and rammed into the steering wheel. It honked. Cussing, he angrily pulled his head from the wheel. What was he thinking? He should've been watching the road instead of dreaming of something that never could, or would, come to be true. This was a police case, not a romance novel and he couldn't let his feelings get in the way of solving it!

Shaking his head, he pried his white knuckles from the steering wheel, dropped his phone on the dash, and stepped from his truck. He stepped around a police car that he recognized as Ariel's and headed into his house. He once again pondered his options as he walked to the door. He could come on casual, strong, business-like or random.

Reaching the door, he decided on randomly striking up a casual conversation about her. Over coffee. He was grabbing the doorknob when it hit him. He let go of the handle and took long, quick strides back to his driveway. His truck was crookedly parked alongside Ariel's cruiser. Why was Ariel still here? He looked up and his breath caught.

Parked on either side of the driveway was an unrecognizable police car and an ambulance. Why hadn't he seen this before when he drove up or got out? His heart quickened and he remembered to breathe. He forced himself to exhale as his mind raced through alternatives.

Was Tanner back? Did he try to kill her another time? He desperately wanted to run to Faith and find out what had happened, but his feet were rooted as his mind set upon the impossible. What if Faith was dead? He put his hand out to steady himself against the garage door. He blinked slowly as he felt his world crash. Calm down!

Trying to breathe, he remembered that he still had to be told of what had happened. There was no cops swarming, no yellow tape and no press or large crowd. His heart refused to slow. Suddenly he felt dizzy. Why hadn't he been there?

" Stephen?" he heard the voice, but it didn't register. Footsteps sounded behind him. Stephen closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, trying to compose himself. Here comes the bomb. A hand grasped his shoulder. He turned around.

Ariel looked slightly worried and fearful, but he could also sense that she was nervous.

Sighing, he looked her square in the eyes. " What happened?"

She shook her head and looked down. " It's hard to explain. She's out cold… It was horrible. Come, follow me." Without another word she led him into the house to his office where the sketch artist had been. Along the way, questions attacked him. He fended against most of them, but the biggest one continued to stab at him. When he saw Faith lying on the floor, he let it bounce around in his mind. But all he knew was that Faith wasn't O.K. And somehow, he knew she would never be the same again.


	13. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12**

A cool hand pressed against her cheek, but its touch was minimal compared to the cool wind that blew around inside her. She felt the frigid air buffet her hair, sending shivers down her spine. Her strength had long since failed her.

_"Daddy No!" _She pressed against the sound, the voice of her childhood. A few minutes earlier, she had cried out in earnest, pleading for someone to save her. _Her father's bloodshot eyes stared at the knife just seconds away from his life. In deathly moments, the blade pierced flesh, her father grunted, and he toppled onto her mother. They both fell as a lump of flesh, collapsing onto the floor with a grunt and moan. _

Every suppressed memory was now laid out in front of her, and there was very little that she knew. She knew that someone was wiping her forehead. The floor was beneath her, darkness above her, memories within her, filling her mind. Whenever she opened her eyes, all she saw was blackness that was occasionally being swarmed by a memory or image.

_She heard Isabella cry out and frantically ran out of the house towards her ear piercing voice… "No!" Faith crumpled beside Isabella's lifeless form. _"No!" She twisted and turned as she felt the pain bite into her heart.

" _But Stacy, she's just a kid!" _

_ " Oh, Dan! Look at her; she's terrified of us! We can't keep her; she'll never fit into our family. Just look at the little tramp." The woman shook her head. Faith scuffed the floor with her boots. _

Disappointment and despair hit her the same way it had all those years ago. For one moment, she was a little girl again, being rejected by yet another family, another couple looking to adopt. She felt small hiccups of air enter and disperse from her lungs and she realized she was hyperventilating. Air flew out of her lungs as her chest was suddenly wracked with coughs. She knew she had to calm down and breathe slowly, but the air wouldn't come. Faith whimpered and threw her head to the side. " Help me…" her voice sounded distant, like it wasn't from her own throat.

She gasped as she felt the cool hand crawl down to her arm. She yelped and smacked the hand away.

_"Shut up you stupid child!" he screamed and kicked her stomach. _

"Get away! Leave me alone!" Faith squirmed and screamed.

_Flesh ripped grossly as the earsplitting sound of skin tearing and tendons severing crashed through the air. Faith winced and cried out into the night. Pain like a wildfire flew through her veins as tears wracked her. Back going numb, she could only hope to die from the intense agony ripping through her limbs. _

Wriggling in pain only slightly worse than that of the image, Faith screamed. She felt hot liquid slip down her cheeks at the feel of such utter pain and she blindly groped with claw-like hands for the source of whatever caused this hurt. A blurry blade swung at her and she flinched and screamed again.

"Faith, wake up!" A familiar voice whispered in her ear. Her hear leaped and her pulse quickened. Her eyes flew open, but all she could see was black. Desperately grasping that small ray of hope, she tried to hang onto that voice. For a split second the anguish and pain faded and she thought she could see a few people leaning over her. A light pierced the darkness. But then it was over.

" Keep…Talking…" Her voice was hoarse from screaming, but they heard her, they had to. It was her only chance, her small ray of hope.

An image pressed onto her consciousness. She tried to resist it, but she was weak and it broke through the small bit of sanity she had gained from the voice. _"Mom! No, no, no!" Faith screamed and buried her head into her mothers clothing. Blood pooled around her parents as a long, mourning cry from a child losing her family broke into the night. _

"Faith…Faith…" A light flashed and she saw a face painted in worry peering over her. His curly brown hair nearly touched her face and his green eyes sparkled nervously. She reached up her hand and touched his neck. She knew this man. Her hope grew.

Without warning, black flashed before her eyes. Panic and despair threatened to overtake her hope. She clutched onto the man's neck and blurted, "Louder! Keep talking!" her voice was dripping in fear and almost immediately his soothing voice entered her ears.

" Wake-up, wake-up Faith. Come on, we need you. What happened? Open your eyes."

The hope grew and she easily pushed away her past and opened her eyes. Light, beautiful light, flashed and she saw the green-eyes pull away. Her hands slipped from his neck. Faith breathed in fresh air as voices filled with concern and relief surrounded her. It was all muted; she was too busy staring at the man's beautiful sea-green eyes. He blinked and his face flushed. She knew this man.

" Faith," he breathed. She felt her heart flutter at his familiar voice. She knew this man. A voice broke the surface as she zoned into the surrounding noises.

" Faith! Faith! What happened?" A girl with poker straight brownish-red hair leaned over her. She realized that everyone around her was kneeling by her side, except for a darker man who was pacing by the far wall. Faith averted her gaze to stare into the woman's brown eyes. She knew this woman. Relief shrouded her while she fought to remember names.

" I am so glad you woke up! Oh my god, I was so worried when you fainted, I didn't know what to do!" The woman was talking again. Faith focused on her face and voice, trying to put a name to her face. Ariel! She looked at the woman and attempted a smile. It came out a wince.

The green-eyed man was staring at her. She focused on his eyes and tried to name him. Stephen! Memories flooded her as she tried to come back to earth, her being shot, meeting Ariel and Stephen, Stephen helping her. She smiled at him and was pretty sure that it came out nicely. Lifting a hand to her face, she wiped the tears off her cheeks, and took a deep breath.

" Now, now, give her some space to breathe. Back up, you can question her later. But now, she hit the ground pretty hard." She didn't recognize that voice.

Stephen and Ariel started to stand up while panic spread. Faith reached up and grabbed Stephen's hand. She couldn't handle being alone with someone she didn't know.

" Don't leave me. Not alone. Please." Her voice was pleading, filled with panic. He nodded but lifted her hand from his as he stepped toward the far wall where she could still see him. She tried to sit up.

Dizziness overwhelmed her as she felt a warm hand support her back. " Faith, you hit your head pretty hard. Do you remember falling?" A dark skinned man reached for her hands and slowly helped her up; gently, so as not to frighten her, but firm to let her know that she could trust him and that this was something good. She nodded. The man turned to Stephen. "Her heart was beating very fast and her eyes flickered open and closed. She was overheated, which was probably why she fainted. But because of her fast heartbeat, the faint could've been caused by something else."

He turned back and addressed Faith. "Can you tell me what happened?" Once again, she nodded.

She'd fainted? Seemed more like she collapsed. Weren't they the same thing? She shook her head. Who was he? She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

His face lit up in surprise as Stephen smirked. "Dr. Cretchen."

He was a doctor? Figures, how he was talking about her heart. Why did she need a doctor? Right. She fell pretty hard. How long had she been out? She looked at the doctor and suddenly felt light headed. Her knees wobbled and her ears felt plugged. She took a step back.

"Easy now." Dr. Cretchen steadied her with his hand as Stephen brought her a chair. She slid into the seat and felt steadier.

The doctor checked her blood pressure and checked to see if her eyes were dilating. She was given a health check. He stood her up and with a hand on her arm, led her around the room to see if she was still dizzy. She was fine.

"So, what happened?" Stephen stepped in.

How did she answer that? A little truth couldn't hurt. "I was trapped in memories of my past. I was too weak to fend them off, that is why I fainted." To the doctor. "I feel fine and the fall wasn't that bad. Can I go now?" The feeling of being examined usually left her grumpy and ill mannered and she could feel it taking place all ready. It was better to get her out of there as soon as possible. She liked her space.

"Trapped in memories of your past?" Stephen quirked a brow. She could feel disappointment rising. Now she'd have to explain herself to him. A small bit of panic rose. She suddenly wasn't so eager to see him. Faith turned to him.

"Yes, I had a bad childhood," she turned to the doctor, " Can I go now?" She heard Stephen chuckle. Oh great.

"Actually, if it was from memories, maybe you should see a psychiatrist."

She felt anger rising and she whipped around to glare at Stephen. His eyes were full of laughter.

" I am not insane and I will not be treated like I am or poked and observed by some doctor. And I definitely do not need you, Mr. Lightridge, laughing at my flaws. I will not answer to any doctor or anyone who thinks they know better than I!" Stephen's face portrayed his shock. She turned back to the doctor. " I am sorry, but I am fine. I need to go." She stormed from the room, ablaze with fury.

Why did he have to be so rude? Who did he think he was that he could probe into her life? As if he actually understood her. Nobody understood her. Nobody except Isabe- No! She stopped the thought with a wave of fury. Faith refused to dwell on the past.

Racing up the stairs and into her room, she sat down at the desk and suddenly wanted, needed to be at her own house. She wanted her horse and her art and music and books. Stephen's house was nice, but it wasn't homey. Not comfortable.

" Faith." Stephen's voice sounded behind her. She nearly winced at the hurt she heard. No mercy, she reminded herself. He deserved it. She didn't turn around. " I'm sorry about what I said. I know you're not crazy and I'm sorry. If there's anything I can get you…" She turned to him.

" I'd like to live in my own house," She replied curtly.

He looked down. "You can't. It's still a crime scene and they need to analyze the footprints and routes. It's really a mess and we should clean it-"

" Never mind." She snapped. " Well, could I some of my own things from my house?"

" Yes. Here, I'll drive you."

Before she could control her anger, the comment was out of her mouth, " Oh I wouldn't want to bother your tiny mind with such a big favor. I hear it's quite a hassle to drive people who are insane." She instantly regretted it.

His head snapped up as remorse colored her face. Anger flashed in his eyes.

" Fine then, you'll just have to tell security that a police officer couldn't escort you because he's too stupid to drive!"

" Wait, Stephen I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry, it came out wrong." She took a few steps towards him and wobbled slightly. Without warning, he turned and looked down at her.

" No, it came out exactly how you wanted it to because that's' just who you are. You know, you don't think, Faith, you just don't think. I came here to apologize and make nice, but you just spit it back in my face!" he shook his head. " I'm trying everything I can to be friends and earn your trust so I can help you! But every time you just close yourself up and hide in your shell of pity and expect others to finish it for you!" he spread his hands. " I'm trying everything I can! But you have to start to shut up and deal with it, because I can't do this anymore!"

His words hit her hard and she stumbled back. She was so shocked for a moment before the meaning of his words played in her head. Anger rose. She just spit it back? Oh, and he'd grown up with an abusive father too? She stepped up to him and blinked hard.

" You're trying everything? I am not heartless, Stephen, and I will not be talked to like some small brat!" His face turned red.

" Well, then stop acting like one! I try to apologize and make nice, but you just slap me and turn on those fancy heels and go cry to yourself about how bad your life is! Well, try looking around Faith! 'Cuz you're just a selfish brat!" His eyes displayed his regret, but his face still flushed the same angry crimson.

Her heart broke. Selfish brat? Suddenly her bravo faded and she was the same little girl from her past, clinging to the shed's door and crying out for someone to save her. Her eyes brimmed with tears, but she held them back. She refused to cry in front of this jerk. Her father's voice echoed in the back of her mind. _" Shut up, you stupid brat!" _She couldn't speak, for her voice was choked. She did the next best thing.

Her hand flew up and she slapped him. Hard.

" Get out of my room, right now, you jerk." Every word was lathered in hatred and her voice shook. He winced at her bitter tone, but she didn't care.

"Fine." He turned and stormed out. Faith jumped up after him and slammed the door. Anger boiled up inside her as she launched herself onto her bed and, pressing her face into the pillow, screamed. What was his problem? His voice still echoed in her ears. " You just slap me and turn on your fancy heels and cry. Blah blah blah." She mocked as she pulled herself from the bed. " You're nothing but a selfish brat!"

Sitting at her desk, she pulled a drawer, finding a few pencils and stationary. Her fingers ached to draw while her mind was set on the past. Grabbing a pencil and blank paper, she thought hard of what to draw. Her fingers, beginning to quickly fly over the page, set about sketching a face. Thinking about her, she felt the anger fade, replaced by sadness and regret.

The few lines and curves formed a flawless face and angel-like hair. The actual facial features stumped her for a moment while she closed her eyes and tried to remember. An idea exploded into her mind as she stood up and ran into her connecting bathroom.

Her face appeared before her in the mirror, which she examined closely. Closely laid eyes and rounded nose. High-ish cheekbones and thin lips. Smiling, small dimples appeared above her lips, inlaid on her cheeks. She stopped smiling and memorized her face.

Closing her eyes, Faith recalled the last time she had seen her. Mixing bits of her own face with the distant memory, she remembered what she looked like. Eyes flying open, Faith flew back to the deck and let her fingers copy the image inscribed in her mind. Closely laid eyes and rounded nose. High-ish cheekbones and thin lips. Light freckles dusted just below her colorless eyes on her nose. Layered hair framed her face.

A few minutes later, Faith sat back and looked at her work. A bit rough around the edges, but it would do for now. She leaned in closer. Something was wrong, different. She squinted. Her eyes! She grabbed the pencil and shaded the left eye. Perfect! Digging in the desk drawer, she pulled out tape. Onto the wall, Faith hung the picture and stared at it. Her heart was suddenly very heavy and she sat on her bed. A sigh escaped through her lips.

If only things had turned out differently, maybe she would be in this very room, laughing at how Faith's clothes were scattered and smiling ear-to-ear. Maybe they would go shopping together or go out for coffee. She would understand how Faith was feeling about her past and abut Stephen. She would give wise advice. Faith lifted her hands to her eyes, but was surprised to find them dry. She shrugged. _I guess I've cried enough about Isabella. _

But truth be told, she felt horrible. Her legs and back ached from bending over paper all day and her heart weighed her down. Her eyes felt hot and her hands were cold. Maybe she was coming down with something. A wry smile played on her lips. Maybe someone up there decided to give her a break and she was going to die. She shook off the thought as she looked around.

Was she really a selfish brat? Maybe that's what growing up with no parents does to you. A curiosity broke to the surface. If Stephen made her so mad, then why did her heart beat faster whenever she saw or thought of him? She certainly didn't like him and he definitely didn't scare her. She shrugged.

But he was awfully cute. And the way his face turned crimson when he was angry, or how his eyes shone whenever he was excited made her stomach flip. She tried to shrug off the thoughts, but they kept invading her head.

Stephen was so kind, and cute and…perfect. He had helped her during this last week through the hardest parts, and had given her what she wanted, whenever. When they accidently stumbled into each other, she wanted him to hold her in his arms and comfort her, let her know that everything was going to be Ok. But surely he didn't feel the same way.

Faith sighed as she paced. Stephen was just being friendly and polite. He smiled because she was a victim and needed help, nothing more. He never showed any kind of attraction, and if he did, he probably wouldn't show it or his job was at risk. And if anyone found out, she would have to stay with someone else.

When she had woken up from her 'incident' today, he had been so close, so near and protective. The feel of his breath on her cheek, his eyes shining so bright, had made her heart skip, even when she had forgotten who he was. Just thinking of it made her heart quicken.

Ok, so maybe she was attracted to him. But just a little bit. He thought of her as a friend, nothing more, so her hopes were for naught. Nothing was going to happen, she would just have to let her feelings go. Today, when he yelled at her, she had broken down because she never thought that those were what he thought about when he saw her. He didn't feel the same way, or he wouldn't have insulted her. She sighed and diverted her thoughts.

Her past was so overwhelming it nearly made her gasp. Everyone she had loved or trusted had either been murdered or taken away. And Stephen's careless comments didn't help. Pain pierced her consciousness as Faith let herself fall back onto her bed and she realized the obvious.

She was utterly and irrevocably alone.


	14. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER 13**

" You did what?"

Walton's voice was strained and Stephen imagined his veins popping out in his neck.

He pressed a fist to his head and clutched the phone tighter. " Hey, it wasn't my fault, she provoked it and, well you know me! It's not my fault, she's so stubborn!" And pretty. He blocked the thought.

" I don't care if she 'provoked' it! Listen to yourself! You sound like a spoiled child. She did it, it's her fault. Well, she may be stubborn, but it was your choice to say those things to her! Lightridge," Stephen heard a muffled sigh, " I pay you to do your job, not hurl insults at our victims!" Stephen groaned inwardly. He knew what was coming. " Now, of course she's gonna be a little shaken up and insecure, she was shot and robbed and who knows what else! I want you to apologize to her and talk to her! Do what I asked you to before, find out information about her past." His voice was commanding and firm. Stephen knew not to argue.

" yes sir." He was about to hang up when he heard Walton sigh. "Uh, sir?" Stephen asked hesitantly.

" Lightridge, the sooner we find Tanner, the better. I'm sending Ariel and Alex out after this call on a search warrant. Pray that we'll find him." Stephens's heart lifted.

"Yes sir, will do sir. Good-bye."

Walton grunted on the other line.

As Stephen flipped his phone shut, he felt the worries lift. Of course he would pray. Without God, this case would be impossible. He shut his eyes for a moment and quietly whispered, "Dear Lord, Faith really needs you right now, we all do. Please help us all close this case. Give me the serenity to accept the things I can't change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Amen."

His favorite prayer had been the serenity prayer. Ever since he was twelve, when he felt stuck, he would just murmur the words. Just like when he was younger, he felt the stress of the day fade, replaced with an indescribable peace. He turned from his kitchen. If God couldn't help them, then who would? Only He could let peace flow through his veins like a river, so graceful yet so strong.

He walked towards his office where Dr. Cretchen was packing up his kit. " Hey, sorry about that. She can be a little stubborn at times."

Dr. Cretchen smiled. " Yes, well my wife is similar. Don't worry about it, most people don't appreciate doctors."

Stephen chuckled. "Women."

The doctor smiled. " How long have you two been together?"

Stephen blushed. " Oh, we're not."

" Related then?"

Stephen shook his head, face still flushed. " No. I work for Cassey P.D, and she is a victim. Her house is a crime scene, and my house was the only available place for her to stay."

The doctor raised his eyebrows and shook his head. " Oh, I'm sorry. I just assumed…"

"Don't worry about it."

Dr. Cretchen smiled and closed his briefcase, handing him a sheet. " Here's her information. She is healthy and seems fine, just a bit flustered I suppose. I think that what happened was an anxiety attack of sorts, or something similar. If it ever happens again, you might want to take her into a hospital for a check-up."

Stephen nodded. As the doctor walked out, Ariel stepped in. " So, how is she?"

Stephen sighed. " Flustered and temperamental, but with a good health check. Healthy as a horse, angry as a hornet"

Ariel smiled. "Really? She seems like the quiet, calm kind of person."

" Maybe someone pushed the wrong buttons."

" Is that person possibly you?"

" Possibly." They both laughed.

" Victims," she shook her head, "Why are they always the weird ones?"

Stephen shrugged. She took a step out. " I think I'm gonna go, unless you want me to stick around."

" No, not unless you have something to do."

" I have to go meet up with Alex to find Tanner."

" Good luck." They nodded to each other as Ariel walked out.

Now it was time to deal with Faith. Walking from his office, he stopped at the foot of the stairs. A strange feeling in his gut caught him off guard. Something he could only describe as happiness filled him and he closed his eyes. Leaning up against the rail, he tried to compose himself. Faith filled him as confusion mixed in with his unexplained feelings.

As he climbed the stairs to Faith's room, he murmured one last prayer. " God, give me the right words to earn her trust back and learn more about her so we can finish this case." He reached the top of the stairs and entered the hall.

The irrepressible urge to see her again was so strong it nearly blew him away. Stephen shut his eyes and tried to fight off images of her; her smile, her teasing voice as she giggled, her long auburn hair. And it was then that he knew that all sanity was breaking from beneath his feet.

And he was falling. Hard.

This wasn't just a high school crush on the prom queen, this was more. When he saw Faith, everything else seemed to fade. All he wanted was to get to know her more. To discover what makes her laugh, what makes her frown, her wants, needs, passions and hates. To solve this case and get her back to a normal life. Maybe if this wasn't a police case, then they could be more than friends, maybe even… but he couldn't let his feelings get in the way of his duties as a police officer. He'd promised Walton that he wouldn't.

But still…If only…

He let go of the railing, opened his eyes and headed down the hall to Faith's room, all the way thinking of if only and what if. "God," he mumbled, " Help me." With those words, a verse sprang into his head._ For I know the plans I have for you," says the Lord. "They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope." _

Hope filled him. He shouldn't be anxious or worried. He shouldn't wrestle with the past or fight to figure out the future. All he had was today.

And God to protect him in the storm.


	15. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER 14**

Alex led Ariel through the thick underbrush. He had followed the shoeprints from a local pub to a business center, and after a quick questioning and a phone call, had followed them to the back woods. It had rained about a week ago, so they could only assume that the prints were at least that old, if not younger. The dirt would've stayed wet for at least another couple days, so these prints could've been made anytime in that time span.

Click! He heard Ariel take a picture as he stopped and looked at her. She pointed to the side. A bunch of bushes had been trampled off the trail, even though the shoeprints continued forward. But something was different. Alex leaned to look at the shoeprints.

" What is it?" Ariel's sweet voice rang out loud and clear.

" I'm not sure." He judged the one boot print closely, then looked up at another. He stood. "you see this one? Well, it's closer to the next one than the others so he must've slowed down. And look, it's indented more to the left than to the right, so he must've leaned over.

Ariel nodded. "He might've fallen or tripped, that would explain the broken undergrowth."

" Most likely." He nodded, then pulling out his camera, snapped a few photos. He stood up and continued on.

" Do you think we'll find anything?" Ariel's voice rang out again.

" I'm not sure. Maybe a clue to where he is now, or a maybe it'll lead us to where the possible hit man group meets." He shrugged.

Pushing aside a branch, he looked down and tried to see any other clues to what was happening. As he followed the prints, something nagged him. Thinking aloud, he suddenly stopped. "So, the secretary said that Bob Tanner did stop by the front desk for instructions, right?"

" Yes." Ariel's voice sounded farther off.

"And he was driving a red sports car. But he wanted directions to the nearest gas station, so why are we out here?" His mind flew through alternatives. " The nearest gas station from there is a Shell on the west side, but we're on the east side. Did he just want to try and throw us off his trail? Or was the secretary lying?" He started to walk again, watching as the footprints widened in length apart. "he started running."

"Wait." Alex spun around to Ariel's request and found her kneeling by the print, ten feet away. Looking up, she queried, "How did the secretary know what kind of car Tanner drove? There are no windows in the front and the door's wood, not glass." Alex's mind clicked. That's what was off, but there was more. Ariel found it first. " Look at the shoe size. It is deep, but not large enough to suggest he was obese." Ariel clapped suddenly and looked at Alex. "He was-"

"Carrying something." Alex caught on.

"Wait a minute, the secretary was lying," Ariel stood up.

" I think we've already covered that."

" No, no I know that, but if I had a car, why would I continue on foot?"

Alex, seeing what she meant, continued, " And if he continued the foot, where's the car? She must've met him before to know what he drove." An idea popped into his head. He stepped off the trail and, swinging his bag from his shoulder, pulled out a file and flipped it open. Reading his earlier notes, he quoted, "Tanner's footprints are unevenly and crookedly placed, suggesting a drunk walking stature. His foot depth and balance also agree that he might've been a bit tipsy." He looked up. "But these footprints were sober, and the secretaries story doesn't match up. She never said he was drunk."

Ariel clapped again. "There was a red sports car outside the pub."

"Exactly, so how did the secretary know that?"

"These footprints are deeper than the other ones."

"Because he was carrying something."

"Or someone."

Alex eyed Ariel. "What?"

Ariel brushed past him and continued down the path. He realized her point and quickly put the file back in his backpack and followed. Connecting the dots, he finally considered how smart Ariel was. She was the one who actually figured it out and he was just dragging her down. She was more experienced, though. He shook his head as it dawned on him. He would have to work harder if he wanted to stay on the team.

Then again, Walton seemed to like him more than Lightridge. Alex pushed through the underbrush, Ariel in view. She stopped.

" Alex? I think I found something." Her worried voice was nearly carried away on the breeze. He quickened his pace. "Alex?"

He put his hand on her shoulder and she jumped, her wide eyes turning to his. He looked at her shaky hands and then to where she was pointing. Gasping, he stepped closer and knelt to the ground, disbelief flying through him as he stared at Bob Tanners lifeless, bloody form.


	16. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER 15**

Faith pushed the sketch away and grabbed another blank page. This might've been the most pictures she'd drawn in one sitting, but she couldn't help it. She drew when she was upset. She began drawing a medieval knight, and her mind flew to Stephen. Her knight in shining armor. She chuckled coldly.

Her heart softened as she recalled their fight.

So, maybe she was a bit stubborn, but he didn't have to provoke it. Calling her names, insulting her life was of no means kind; he was the stubborn one, not her. Then again, refusing to be stubborn was a stupid way of proving one's own stubbornness, and she refused to be stupid. If she were a stubborn brat, she would be a clever one, not an ignorant one.

Stephen wasn't much better, though. Her hand absentmindedly sketched a knight's armor atop a horse amid a medieval stadium. Heart growing heavy as she realized her fault, she sighed. Faith had a fiery temper that blazed untamed inside her scarred heart. If only he knew of her life. But he could never know. If he did know, he would turn away, she was sure. Besides, she didn't know if she trusted herself to tell him.

Truth be told, he was a curiosity to her. He seemed to have an uncontrollable temper as well, and that alone was enough to interest her. He certainly didn't have a right to insult her, but it was partly her fault as well. She could've been less complicated, but that was just who she was. Still…

Who was she kidding? She shook her head. Why was she suddenly so remorseful? She meant everything she'd said, as did he. But she couldn't ignore the lump of regret and self pity that sat in the battlefield of her thoughts. Somehow, something Stephen had said had actually gotten through to her. She pushed her sketch aside and pursed her lips.

Her heart beat faster as she remembered his crimson face, his beautiful green eyes. The way it felt to have him so close, leaning over her, face painted in worry. For her! She tried to shake off the feeling of joy that bounced through her soul. Standing up, she began to pace.

What was wrong with her? Stephen was a stupid, stubborn, self-absorbed, strange and sour policeman with a mindset of absolute invasion on her part. He thought she was a brat, probably counting down the days until she moved out. Or maybe that was her. Maybe she was the one who was being sour and stubborn towards all of his kind acts.

She shook her head.

She needed out of this stuffy room. Now.

Faith strode from her room and gently closed the door behind her so he wouldn't know she had left. Walking to the other side of the hall, she slid down along the wall. Squatting on the ground, she put her head in her hands and tried to figure out the mess that was her.

Why did she have doubts about the way she felt? She had always trusted herself and her ways. She had had a hard childhood and she was in pain. So why did Stephen think he could just nose his way into her life? But his words did cut to the truth. Maybe she was self-absorbed and reactive, but that was all she had known. She had to be silent yet loud for if she wasn't, or hadn't been, she might not be alive today.

Stephen may be sour and stupid, but he was still a person. And hey, to err is human. Perhaps he had had bad parents as well. Stephen was caring and nice; he was the one who had found her and was trying to help her. O.K, so she could more open-minded towards him. She leaned back on her heels as a sigh fluttered through her lips.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and Faith flinched. Leaning into the shadows, she hoped he wouldn't see her, and hoped he didn't want to talk.

Stephen hesitantly rapped on Faith's door. Nothing. Slowly, he opened the door and peeked inside.

Clothes lay scattered on the floor, books on the bed. The desk was cluttered with papers and pencils, pictures of which he was too far away to see. A picture hung on the wall of a girl who looked identical to Faith except she had freckles and layered hair. He looked closer. It was a drawing. He blinked. The left eye was shaded darker than the right.

His eyes flickered back to the desk. Pictures. Stephen sidestepped her clothes and leaned over the desk. Wow, he thought.

A plethora of sketches littered the small desk space, all of them very good. Some were better than most he'd seen. One was a butterfly. Every vein and spot showed up, every shadow in perfect place, every shaded part directly in front. All were black and white, shaded.

A certain one caught his eye. It was a tree he had glimpsed earlier. Only it wasn't just a tree, it was a pine, placed to the left of the page. Slinking beneath the pines sheltering branches, peering into a hole beneath the earth was a beautiful fox. The hole evolved into a hollow. In the hollow was a family of rabbits. About ten baby rabbits cowered farthest from the entrance and the mom stood protectively in front. The father was closer to the mouth of the hole, glancing up.

Another picture was a spruce tree, placed in the center of the page. Large lofts of snow drifted on its branches, bending them while the trunk stood tall and proud. All around the tree, snow sparkled in a brilliant display of white.

All of the pictures caught his eye, taking him into worlds he had never thought about before. Faith had taken small parts of nature and magnified them to display her thoughts. She seemed to favor trees and faces. About five outlines of faces, including hair, from all different angles were littered among the others. It was a man, and seemed to be the same person every time. But the faces were always blank.

"What are you doing?" A voice hissed behind him.

Stephen whirled around. Standing in the doorway was Faith, hands on hips. "I… well I knocked but you weren't there… I was just- oh never mind. I'm sorry." He smiled lamely.

Her glare cut through him and he looked down. Guilt flooded him as he realized what he had done. By invading her space, he had lost her trust, one of the few things she had let him have. "I'm sorry, I guess I'll leave now- I didn't do anything, honest. I was just, um, curious." Stephen felt like he was a child explaining why his hand was halfway down the cookie jar, yet without a cookie.

Stephen looked up and saw Faith's glare had softened. Dear God, help me, he prayed. Those bright blue eyes looked so soft, so inviting. He wished he could just hold her again, but with feeling. Earn her trust, smooth her hair- he shook his head. Since when did he know how to romance a girl?

He stepped towards her until they stood an inch apart. She seemed oblivious to his sudden attraction towards her. And why should she, he wondered. She obviously didn't feel the same about him, or she wouldn't be glaring. But her piercing gaze had softened right? He earnestly looked at her. Frustration and annoyance painted Faith's face. And yet she was still beautiful. He shook away the thought. What was wrong with him?

Without thinking, his hands came up and rested gently on her shoulders. What was he doing? All he could think about was her, her voice, her smile, the way her eyes flashed. He leaned in. " Stephen," he smothered her lips in his mouth.

He felt her grow rigid. Her hands pressed against his chest, but without force. They seemed reluctant to actually do something, but protective all the same. What would happen next? Would she reject him, or awkwardly shake him off? Or would she smile and love him back? His fear for his reputation was nearly as strong as his love for her. The feeling of Faith so close, her lips against his, her body rubbing on his, felt like nothing else he knew.

Stephen hugged her close and kissed her passionately. Eyes so beautiful, a deep blue sparkling in disbelief with a touch of something close to a desirably wanting passion were only inches away from his. Did she really feel passion, or had he misread the desire for controlled anger? Stephen had to remind himself to keep breathing, so powerful this moment was it took his breath away.

Slowly, finally, he felt her relax and eventually her hands stopped pressing his chest and crawled up, resting behind his neck. It felt so good, so right to be together. He felt her kiss him back and watched her close her eyes. He kept his open, enjoying the sight of her face so close. Undeniable joy sparked a flame in his soul for her acceptance of him, of her reaction to his touch. He let his hands fall to her waist where he cradled her small frame.

Their lips came apart and Faith leaned against him. A strange feeling welled up inside him, love. Faith gave Stephen her weight and they slowly began rocking back and forth. She sighed. " What was that for?" Her pleasant voice filled his ears.

"I'm sorry," Stephen apologized, "For invading your space. I want your trust, I want your love. And plus, I've wanted to do that for a while."

Faith giggled. Stephen enjoyed hearing the joy in her voice. _Dear God, you have given me the woman of my dreams. Please don't take her away. _Stephen stopped rocking. Faith tilted her head back and looked at him. "What?"

"Do you believe in God?"

God. A terrible, terrible subject she tried so hard to avoid, to reject, and to forget. Her mother had believed in God, so loving, so kind, and yet, so far away. Where was he all those nights she had cried out in earnest, in hunger and despair, only to be whipped and shut out of the world?

God didn't come, didn't stop Darth from lashing his claws onto her scar laden back, didn't slow the alcohol that ran down his throat, didn't save her mother from the grip of death that refused to let go as Darth had fallen onto her.

She tried to hide her resentment.

God.

Did she believe in God? Of course, a greedy, malicious God who finds pleasure in ripping the life out of innocent humans and watching childhoods being broken. God had stood by all the times her mother cried out to him, all the times her father had gotten drunk or unfaithful. God couldn't have cared less. She used to believe in a loving, caring God, but that all changed the night her parents died.

Throughout the years, in the orphanages and in foster homes, every event and crisis just pointed to no God. For all Faith knew, God was Satan, two in one. He could provide good to give people hope, but also lead others into hell whenever he got bored and needed some excitement.

When people prayed, they were talking to no one. When she saw eyes lifted high and lips mouthing prayers, she nearly laughed. God wasn't there; he wasn't listening to everyone all at the same time. It was impossible and fake.

Faith had long since tried to read the bible, it was full of lies. God would not protect her, he would not care and love and keep her from harm.

Wouldn't comfort her.

Wouldn't fill her with peace and joy and serenity.

Wouldn't avenge her enemies and perform miracles.

Images flickered in her mind. _Her mother, kneeling on the floor, shouting and begging God to come, to protect and prevent Darth from hurting us; Faith crying out in the night out of hunger and pain and loneliness. _

Faith stepped away from Stephen and tried to smile. " Which one?" Which one? He would never believe that. She tried to guard her voice from the anger that boiled frightfully close to the surface. She looked up at Stephen. He quirked an eyebrow.

" The Christian, Catholic God. Jesus, son of man and of God. The one people usually talk about when they ask, 'do you believe in God'." He gave her a strange look. "The one true God."

Faith nearly winced at the last comment. The one true God?

If he was true, then he wouldn't lie. He wouldn't give children false hopes and false dreams, wouldn't kill families or separate parents. She hadn't gone to church, but when she was younger, her mother would pray aloud. Her cry of deliverance burned brightly in Faith's head. _Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, in earth as it is in heaven. _

And his will was done. To destroy lives. If God really was loving and kind, he would have spared her the pain of living, killed her and sent her to the fiery gates of hell. Even gnashing teeth and demos of pure evil would've been better than her life here on earth.

_But if you had died, _a voice whispered in her ear, _you wouldn't have met Stephen and that moment would've never been shared. _She let that thought roll around in her head. _True, _she shot back, _but I could be with Izzy right now, laughing with my mom or living with a real family instead of trying to awkwardly answer personal questions. _

Averting her gaze, Faith walked to her desk and fingered her sketches.

" No," she murmured, " My…family didn't go to church, I was never really… taught about God, much…" But even as the lies flowed, she could hear the pain sprinkled among every pause and syllable. How she wanted to look into Stephens's eyes and tell him everything, tell him the truth. Lying was becoming too easy and she didn't like having to pretend she was o.k.

_My father physically abused me, and even when I tried to escape in prayer, God did nothing. My parents died and I was forced into foster homes and orphanages until I was eighteen. I was allowed to live in my own house, trying to live alone. After years of counseling, the memories still haunt me. _

Never could she tell Stephen, even sugarcoated or skimming parts of the truth. Her past was too strong, and throughout her teen years, when she tried to tell parts to friends, or boyfriends, they never understood. They called her a liar, couldn't handle it and so accused her of exaggeration.

She felt Stephen's hands encircle her waist and it took her a moment to remember to breathe and allow herself to un-stiffen. She almost laughed at the way his hands crookedly held her and at the awkwardness in his stature. His soothing voice filled her ears as her heart jumped.

"Well, I believe in God, and maybe if you've never been to church, you and I could go this Sunday, get a feel for the Spirit."

He sounded so hopeful. She tried to hide her disgust and enthusiastically replied, " Sure, that sounds awesome." Hoping not to sound sarcastic, she turned around and hugged Stephen. Faith leaned back and eyed him playfully. "Now, why did you want me? Not just to kiss me, I'm sure."

She watched as his face grew red. Hopefully, she would throw him off the church subject. The coyness in her act was so different than her normal attitude, but he didn't seem to notice.

He grinned and let her go. "I was wondering if you would like to go out for coffee, or take a walk to get our heads off the case for a while."

Relief flooded her. He didn't want to question her or invade her space. He wanted to relax and socialize, get to know her more. She assumed they would talk, that is what you do over coffee. Nodding, she took his hand.

"Coffee sounds nice."


	17. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER 16**

Jane Reld strode down the hallway to Walton's office, hair streaming behind her and papers flapping in her hand. The news was nothing less than she'd expected when she first saw the body. A clean killing, but nonetheless, it was being fumed. Jane knew what to expect. No prints, no DNA, no evidence.

Pulling up at Walton's door, Jane knocked and entered after she was given the right-away by the guard. She barley glanced at him as she set down the papers on his desk and sat down. Walton, head lifting from his work, eyed her oddly.

"Absolutely no prints or evidence on Tanner, the clothes have been pressed and rolled, fingernails cleaned and body washed. The thing looked like it was done at the morgue, ready to rot in the ground!" Frustration lined her tone.

Walton's brow furrowed, "It's done being fumed?"

"No, but I can tell these guys weren't sloppy."

"Nothing on the body?"

"Except for dried blood on the neck wound, no."

Walton looked down at the papers she had given him. "What killed him?"

Speaking from memory, she replied, " A cut to his throat. Loss of blood and damage to a main artery."

He nodded. "Any other injuries that could have corresponded to his death?"

"A slight skull fracture on the center of his head, but not enough to kill him. I assume he got into a fight, but the fracture could've caused him to black out; some brain cells killed and tissue ripped. Also some cuts on his arms and legs filled with glass, which places him at Faith's house, when he broke the window. Bruises on forearms. He got hit pretty hard."

"That's all?"

"Yes."

They were silent for a moment while they both assessed the information. Jane reviewed the facts, trying to look for a loophole, a spot of evidence. She'd already ran through the sheets hundreds of times and scanned the body, looking for a spot missed, a fingerprint, anything. It was hopeless.

"What caused the bruise?" Walton held up a photograph of Tanner's forearm.

" It looks like the shape of a fist."

"Prints?"

"Nothing."

They didn't speak as they lay upon the obvious. This was a useless case.

Finally Jane spoke. " Sir, you will find him right?"

He looked at her questionably. "Who?"

"The one who killed Tanner, the man behind the A.M. Even if he was a thief and a criminal, nobody deserves to die." Ever since she started the job, she had been convinced that murder was wrong and even now, five years later, her beliefs stood tall.

He eyed her curiously, "But don't you think if he killed someone, he should have to endure the same thing that he put them through?"

"Two wrongs don't make a right. Besides, since when do we become worthy enough to decide ones fate? That's God's job."

Winking, she turned on her heel and walked from his office.


	18. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER 17**

"Hey, wanna see something weird?"

Stephen leaned over the table toward Faith. After driving around town twice, they decided on a cute little coffee shop on the west side. Out of habit, he chose a booth in the corner with full view of all windows and doors. Trying to steer clear of personal questions for the time being, he settled on small talk. Faith looked at him with a weird glint in her eyes. She half-smiled.

"Ok?"

He chuckled and reached his hand across so it settled beside hers. "Ok, now watch my thumb." He felt a slight pop as he pushed his thumb in and out of joint. Eyes widening, she gasped.

"Oh, that's gross."

"No, it's cool."

"How can you call that cool? You're like breaking it over and over again!"

He grinned. "I can do it with my shoulder too."

She looked away as a grin tugged at her lips. "So, what kind of crazy family decided to raise you?"

He chuckled and she looked at him. "My mom and younger sister, Trinity. My dad left when my sister was born. She has down syndrome."

Sympathy flashed on her face. "Oh, that's horrible, I'm so sorry!"

"Don't be. I hate others pity."

Ever since friends and family heard, he felt surrounded, suffocating in pampering. They felt as though he was dieing of sadness, since he had been eight at the time. In response, he had just crawled even further into his shell. He had just been confused. Stephen thought that his father didn't want him, and he couldn't understand why. Whenever he got into trouble, he remembered his father's words. _"I can't deal with this anymore! If you want to raise these crazy kids, then you go right ahead, Bayllie!" _

He softened his tone, choosing his words wisely. " How about you? Where'd you grow up?"

A guarded look took over her face. "I grew up right here in Cassey." She sipped her coffee. " Grew up with my Mother, Anne Woods, and Father, Darth. Twin named Bella." Monotone voice.

"Ok, in those threesome sentences, you've told me nothing about yourself. Come on, I'm sure you've got more to say. Here, I'll start." He pointed to a scar on his left wrist that stretched three inches. " When I was twelve, I got my hand stuck in a monorail's door. I spent eleven minutes screaming before the captain caught on. The doctors spent half-an-hour to figure out it didn't need to be cut off." He rolled his eyes crazily. "My mom was hysterical and the nurses were wondering if I wanted a plastic or ceramic prosthetic, or no hand at all."

Faith gasped, her face portraying her anguish.

"When I was eighteen, on my first 'mission' I forgot to put my safety on and shot myself in the foot and when I was fifteen a glass vase fell on my head. You can't see it, but I got thirteen stiches."

Faith looked so worried and dismayed, Stephen couldn't help but laugh. "What?" she asked, sipping her coffee.

"Your face."

"Well, those were pretty gruesome tales you told."

"Your turn."

"Oh no, I'm not nearly as reckless as you."

"Come on, everyone has their moments."

She leaned backing her chair and took another sip of coffee. She wrinkled her brow, deep in thought. "Ok, you see this arm?" Pointing to her left, Faith looked at him. Stephen nodded. "When I was sixteen, I burned down a barn. My friend, Sophie, and I were trying smokes behind her barn and I coughed and dropped the cigarette. It went up in flames. Sophie never talked to me again."

"What does that have to do with your arm?"

"I burned it."

"Ooh, let me see it!"

"What?"

"I want to see your scar!"

"Why?"

"You might be lying."

Rolling her eyes, Faith pushed up her sleeve until a patch of stretched skin, scarred and slightly scabbed, about an inch thick appeared. As she did, the faint line of another scar starting just below her shoulder was uncovered. Stephen reached for it.

"What's that from?"

She flinched and pushed her sleeve back down. "I fell off a bike." Averting her eyes she shielded her face with her coffee mug and drank. Frustration overcame Stephen. It didn't take much for her to have to crawl back into her shell. Why couldn't she be honest with him? It was obvious she was lying, but he dared not t feed the flame, he had just gotten her trust back.

Leaning back in his chair, he innocently wondered, "So you have a twin? How's that like?"

She set the mug down and let her eyes flicker over his face. "Have I told you how cute you look when you get mad?"

His face turned red. "Quit changing the subject…" He looked down. "How cute?"

She giggled. "Well, your eyes shine and your face turns crimson red. When you shake your head, your hair bounces."

He shook his head and took her hand. "And have I told you how cute you look when you get mad?"

"Quit changing the subject…How cute?" Her eyes smiled.

" Well, your eyes turn bright blue and your mouth pouts. Your hair seems to stay perfect though."

She giggled and took her hand back. " You know, you're not too bad for a cop."

He smiled and drank from his now cold coffee. " No, really. How's having a twin?"

She also took a drink. " Well, it was pretty much the same as any other sibling, except you're much closer, and you look identical. Teachers mistook us for each other, and I was good at math and science, while she liked social and English. We took each others classes."

"No way! They never caught on?"

"No. If the teachers started to get suspicious, we would switch clothes in between classes."

"Do you see her much?"

" Not nearly as much as I would like."

Stephen searched her eyes to see if she was telling the truth, and she seemed to be true, but something flickered behind her bright blue orbs. "Where's she live?"

Pause. She lifted her mug again. "Way up north."

He left it at that. "In this small town, how come I never saw you around?"

"When I was eight, we moved away."

"Really? I've lived in this same small town all my life, except for a couple years in San Fran for college."

"My family moved a lot because of my dad's job. I've been to seven different states, seven American cities. Then back here."

"Wow I'm jealous." Stephen grinned at her. "Which ones?"

"Ok, well Cassey, of course; Amarillo, Texas; Inola, Oklahoma; Aventura, Florida; Toppenish, Washington. After that…" A pause, " Chinook, Montana; Amsterdam, New York; Colusa, California and then back here, Cassey Franchise."

"Was it hard changing schools?"

"Well, sometimes we were home schooled, but when our parents had to work we went to school." She took another sip, face pondering. "No, it wasn't really that hard I guess. Some kids were mean, but most were friendly and I made lots of friends. The hardest part was moving again, having to leave friendships behind and try and make new ones."

Stephen sipped his coffee. Now for the business. " Ok, well," he rolled his eyes. "Gregory Walton, my boss, needs to know if anyone would want to hurt or kill you. He wants names, so I thought coffee would be better than an office."

She breathed deeply. "Yeah, I was wondering," Silence filled the air as Faith leaned back in her chair and pursed her lips, deep in thought. Stephen relished the sight.

Faith, in a cute emerald shirt that brought out a slight green tinge in her eyes, relaxing with a coffee. Faith, slightly brushed with makeup, staring just past his shoulder as she recalled her past. Faith, dazzling in her beauty and elegance, here with him. Stephen wanted to pull her into his lap and watch a movie, to hold her close so no hurt could ever touch her, to kiss her again and feel her kiss him back.

Faith cut into his moment. " Well, Darth- my father, used to gamble and drink and we weren't exactly the richest family. He might owe someone money, and they might go after me, but other than that." She shrugged, blue orb-eyes focused on him.

Information collided in Stephen's head. Walton had been right about Tanner being in some sort of hit man group. They wanted money and went after Faith. But why not go after Darth himself, or her mother. Darth didn't sound like the family man, so surely grabbing his wife would be more significant than his kids. Leverage, possibly.

"Where is your father?"

Her face grew cold. "Six feet under." Voice bitter, Faith's voice dropped lower, nearing monotone.

Six feet under? He was dead? What about her other family, why was she being attacked? It was possible that she had gotten the full fortune, instead of Izzy, her sister. Or she was closest to the group.

"Your mother?" He dreaded the worst.

"Laying right beside his rotting corpse." Monotone.

"Your twin, Izzy?"

She glared at him, monotone gone. "Where do you think? Laughing happily in heaven, or burning in hell? Why don't you ask your precious God? I'm the only one left. Why do you care anyway?" Her voice raised steadily and the few people littered among the tables shot glances their way.

"Quiet down, you're making a scene. Look I'm-"

"Oh, I'm making a scene? Are you even hearing yourself? I just told you that my whole family is dead, and all you care about is that I am making a scene? You don't care at all, do you? You just came here and pretended to be all nice so you could get your information. Unbelievable."

"Look, Faith! I am genuinely sorry to hear about your family. And I-," _God give me the right words,_ "-appreciate you telling me." Faith's shoulders slumped, head dropped. Defeated. "Hey, do you wanna get out of here?"

Faith nodded and jumped up, striding out of the coffee shop at full speed.

_God, _he prayed, _Faith is really hurting right now. Please help us. And if Izzy is up there, or Faith's parents, let them comfort Faith. Amen. _Rising, he paid the bill. It took him ten seconds to find Faith in a shaded corner on a bench across the parking lot. Sending a quick plea up to heaven, he walked to the bench.

"I feel… so good that you trusted me enough to tell me, and I respect that it took a lot to be honest."

Her head swung around to gaze at him. Surprisingly, no tears filled her eyes, only a sad, distant look glazed in a vise of frustration. Frustration? Had he gone too far?

"Is that really the best you've got? Gee, thanks for telling me! You feel so good that I was honest? No words of comfort, no respectful silence, just 'congratulations on telling me'. Men are so unsympathetic!" Something similar to remorse filled the distance between them for what they had said. It didn't seem appropriate to continue to question her, and to try to comfort her now would be too expected, not as heartfelt. There was nothing to say.

"So what, you're speechless now? Got nothing more to figure out, Sherlock, or are you tired of my attitude?"

"I've decided to give you respectful silence." He murmured, barely audible. Faith's head fell back onto the top of the bench as a sigh wafted through her lips.

It was a cool evening. A light breeze fluttered through the scattered trees placed aimlessly amid the parking lot and only a few strangers wandered throughout the stores. The coffee shop was a part of a bunch of other quaint businesses that usually littered this small town. Benches similar to the one they were on sat outside all stores and a grassy platform with a few trees announced the center of the plaza.

Stephen moved closer to Faith and she involuntarily moved her head from the bench to his shoulder.

"I just wish it would all end. All this pain and danger and fear. I always wonder why." She offered nothing else, but shifted her head so she could stare up into his eyes. Stephens heart leaped.

Her blue laser-eyes shot into his soul. Stephen was sure she could read all of his thoughts, and hear his heart gallop out of control. He forced himself to breathe and searched for some sort of comforting words. " Every one faces challenges in their lives, just some might be faced earlier, with more pain and intensity…" Real comforting, he chided himself. "I like to think of this life as a test. If you pass, you can go to heaven. If you fail, well…" His voice was hardly a whisper as he stared into her deep blue eyes.

She sighed. "But why me? My sister died when she was ten, and our parents died on the same day, when we were only five! I've had to live with challenges every day, not just one event. When I moved out last year, I thought my struggles were over. I started my own job and taught a few art workshops… But then this whole stupid murder and theft thing jumps in!"

She continued to stare at him. Stephen lowered his head a little closer to hers. Her breath felt musty against his neck. Desire filled him and at that moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to press his lips to hers and forget about the AM. She was so close, so there. It felt so right, so true to have her eyes only inches from his.

Without warning, Faith pulled back and turned her head back into his shoulder, breaking eye contact.

Smooth.

The test bit he had said before haunted him. It wasn't exactly very comforting, but it was all he could think of. He knew he was sailing through this test, but from what he'd heard, Faith was failing fast. God must've put them together for a reason. Maybe he was meant to lead her into the light.

"You know," he offered, " God will always love you and he'll accept you, no matter what you've done or been through."

"Can we not talk about this now? I've agreed to go to church with you, please leave your wonderful wisdom to yourself until then, ok?"

"Ok."

There was nothing left to say. She needed some sort of comforting speech, but he couldn't give her that. Only God could really help her, but since she wasn't ready to listen to the Truth, he couldn't do anything.

_God, please help me to show her the Way and open her heart. Thanks._

Stephen wrapped his arm around her shoulders and he felt her lean into him.

As they sat on that bench in unwanted silence, Stephen couldn't help feeling so small and useless. He couldn't help Faith and God wasn't throwing out answers all too quickly. Undoubtedly, he was a part of some huge, master plan, the big picture, but he couldn't figure out what it was. He was so alone, such a tiny human yearning for answers.

And desperate for God's help.


	19. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER 18**

The idea was growing on him.

Before when the thought had first come to his mind, he had pushed it away. Dismissed it from his mind without a further glance or farewell it's way. It wasn't a stable plan, not before it had been kneaded and shaped to his choosing. It would never work; she was too smart for that kind of idea. She'd never comply.

But here in the lonely corridors of his mind, he had found the thought. Down in the beaten alleys of temptation, he picked it up. Brushed it off and observed it. Set it on a platter and spun it on one finger. Rolled it between fingers of his consciousness.

The idea began to appeal to him as he looked more deeply at its skin. Quite an appetizing rind it had, such a smooth, perfect flawless rind. He'd put it into his mouth of judgment, where few ideas ever went. Bit deeply into its tantalizing flesh and chewed.

And now as he savored its deliciously perfect contents, he was warming up to it. The idea had grown into a thought, which in turn was molded into a plan.

He sat on a plush chair and reviewed his later plan. So far, he had James watching the girl. The assassin hadn't worked, and so his new idea was becoming more and more pleasing.

Yes, this could work.

Maybe when it was done, James could have the girl. Teach her the ways of the pact, maybe be his student. He shook his head. That would never work. She was a victim, not a piece of moldable clay.

He blinked his head from later thoughts and once again chewed his idea. His plan.

Picking up the phone, he dialed a few numbers and ran his tongue over his lip.

"Witson." Came a graveling reply, "You missed your check point."

He swallowed, apologized and quickly ran through the major points of his plan. After hearing the 'ok', he cleared his throat. "He needs to get closer to her."

"Indeed."

"He needs to get her to trust and love him so that she's wrapped around his finger."

"And if he fails?"

"He won't."

"And then?"

"Then we take her down."


	20. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER 19 **

It was time.

Baylee Lightridge stared at the phone He had been back for two weeks now with Trinity and her, and it was time to tell Stephen. She picked up the phone and dialed his number. It rang three times.

After listening to Stephen drone on about his work hours, she heard the beep. She checked the time. "Hey Stephen, it's eight twenty-three. This is your mother, Bayllie. Well, I got some good news, and some more good news." She paused, then rushed in, too eager to waste a moment. "First, Stephen your dad came back. Two weeks ago. Yeah, I know shocking right? Don't worry, we're fine. He explained it all and I'd rather give you the details in person, but I think we are ok.

"Anyway, secondly we're coming to visit! We were thinking about a couple days from now because Trinity is going to San Fran to see a few doctors. We thought we would stop by Cassey. Have a great day and please phone back. Bye Hun, love you!" She hung up. Set the phone down, and leaned against the table. Bowed her head.

Started to pray.


	21. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER 20**

A scream shattered the night.

Stephen had his hand on his gun and his feet on the floor before he opened his eyes. Faith. He threw himself from the sheets and flicked on every light he passed as he raced up the stairs to his guest room. The scream grew shriller, more panicked and desperate the closer he got and by the time he was at her door, he could hardly hear himself think. His heart beat a strange, erratic tune. He flicked the light switch as he opened the door.

Stephen gasped.

Faith's bed was a mass of sticky sheets splattered with red streaks. Faith sat tangled in the mess, arms wrapped in white and red cloths, back arched and hands clenched into her knees so hard that small rivets of blood slipped down her legs. Her wide mouth was stretched taunt and her limbs were clenched tight. Her baggy T-shirt was wrapped around her torso, sticking to her stomach in sweat. Her bright blue eyes were open and glassy because of her lack of blinking and painted in pure horror.

Stephen glanced at her eyes and involuntarily shivered.

He raced to her side and put the safety back on his gun. A tear ran down her cheek as he grabbed her wrists and tried to pry her clawing fingers from her knees. He noticed a few long scratches on her legs and arms as well, and wondered what horrible nightmare she had tried to attack. Her knuckles were white and immovable. He shook her shoulders, but she stayed in her stature, mouth still screaming.

"Faith!" He shouted at her. She flinched and blinked, sending a fresh wave of tears down her face. Her scream pierced his ears. "Wake up!"

He tried to shake her again, but she stayed taunt and clenched, bound up tighter than a wind-up toy. Her scream grew louder, more shrill and he wondered how long she could go before her voice gave out. "Faith!" He shook her hard and shouted into her face. No response this time. Letting go of her shoulders, he grabbed her elbows and tried to break their stiff grip. Her scream got louder.

He looked at her eyes again, and felt fear crash into him. They were wide and crazed, pupils almost fully diluted, making her eyes seem extremely dark. Rather than the usual barriers that seemed to guard her eyes during the day, her eyes were bare, stripped of any protection. They had a new depth to them, a darkness reflecting from her blue irises.

What was she screaming about? He'd seen victims who had seen their best friends shot, and never had they screamed this long or loud. Maybe getting shot at was scarier than watching the bullets fly. He mentally rehearsed his training. He decided that she had gone into shock, and wouldn't wake up. His training said that he had to get her out of the situation as fast as possible and into a safer environment.

He tried to loosen her posture, but it was hopeless. Her thin body was stronger than it appeared, and since she was unaware of her situation, she wasn't going to let go. He tried to make her lay back down, tried to think straight in her endless, shrill screaming. He felt his head start to pound as he stepped back and waited for her to stop, to just wake up. Her skin was taunt, stretched from her clenched muscles. Her fingers seemed to be digging into her knees even harder, and Stephen started to get worried about the amount of blood spilling onto the sheets.

Stephen didn't want to use force with her, but if all else failed, he couldn't just let her drain herself of blood, and let her voice die. He assessed his situation. He sighed, not at all eager to physically wake her up.

He checked his watch. It had been ten minutes.

He looked back at her face, wanting to wash the pain and hurt away and replacing it with that heart-stopping smile of hers. Her face was as white as her sheets, making her eyes that much bluer and her hair that much darker. He blinked and looked closer. Her eyes seemed darker, almost a navy rather than a baby blue. She looked scary, and his heart quickened. Her knuckles were white and it seemed like the blood was flowing faster. The scratches on her legs leaked red, spilling onto the bed and soaking the blanket.

His eyes scanned the floor, trying to think, to-

Suddenly her scream stopped, and his eyes flew back to her face. She was staring at him, eyes holding that same look from earlier today, when she had freaked out after the sketch artist came. Fear and lack of recognition. He took her wrists and spoke slowly.

" Faith, it's me Stephen. You don't have to be afraid. Wake up." She blinked and slowly her eyes took on its normal hues. Her fingers unclenched from her knees and she looked down, gazing without comprehension at the streaks of blood where her nails had been. She started to shake as she looked back at him and a tear fell from her eye.

She fell into him, face hiding in his shoulder, shaking so hard she couldn't keep her balance. He lifted her up and sat on her bed, cradling her. He felt her tears soak his shirt, and could only rub her back to keep her comforted. Her tears racked her body and made the shakes more intense. As his hand passed over her back, he noticed that it was rough and flabby. He rubbed her back again and nearly gasped.

It felt like dozens of scars crisscrossing her back. Was that the cause of her nightmare and her freak-out earlier? Fear grabbed his throat and refused to let him go. He rubbed again, and almost got sick at the torn flesh that he felt there. _God…What is this? _Who does this? What sick thing had hit her so hard that now, the scars still remained?

Anger tightened his jaw and for a moment his fist clenched hard, before he felt Faith's shaking and remembered her pain. He loosened his hands and continued his rubbing. Her shakes continued, and he tried to concentrate on helping her, and hurting her threats later. Her breathing was loud and labored and tears continued to fall. He could only imagine what images filled her head, what memories she was trying to void off alone.

Stephen wanted her to tell him, wanted to know who had scarred her and striped her of her dignity. Wanted to hit him so hard that his face would stay broken, so everyone who saw him would know, everyone whom he passed would pity him and hate his ugly face. Assuming it was a him, anyway. Had this man done similar things to her family? Was that why they were dead? Had this man tried to kill her?

Stephen shuddered. His hand flowed rhythmically over her back, trying to wipe away her sorrows. He saw a flash of blue as she turned her head, and the fear and pain was so great, so real, that he felt it consume him. A spark of fear lit inside him, but he doused it with brave water and stared into her eyes, trying to transmit his love to her. She opened her mouth to speak, but what came out sounded like a wail more than words.

"Shhhh…. It's ok, I'm here." He put his hand against her cheek and wiped her tears with his thumb. "You don't need to be afraid."

Of course, he never knew that. Whatever she was afraid of, whatever she had dreamt about that caused her to scream was very real and very present. She probably had every right to be afraid, every reason. He remembered his words that he'd snarled at her._ "I try to apologize and make nice, but you just slap me and turn on those fancy heels and go cry to yourself about how bad your life is! Well, try looking around Faith! 'Cuz you're just a selfish brat!" _

He nearly winced. He didn't know how bad her life was, how bad it had been. Judging by the multitude of her scars, it had been very bad. Who was he to mock her? He saw her in a whole new light. He glanced down at her. She was wearing sweat pants and a long t-shirt. He ran his hand up her arm, and as it passed her sleeve, it caused the fabric to shift up, revealing the faint line of a scar.

It was a long, red line with jagged skin around the edges. It looked like it was from a hand, or something sharp. He ground his jaw. Taking her hands in his, he noticed that they were lacking the wide bracelets that she normally wore. He now saw why. The flesh on her wrists was tight and stiff, suggesting that they had been scarred when she was younger, and as she grew, the skin had stretched

He rubbed her back again. Her shaking seemed to have subsided. It was still there, a faint rocking that swayed her body in his. He swallowed his questions, swallowed the urge to ask her why and who and what. Trying to be patient, he simply focused on Faith. He felt a hot sensation on his hip, and looked to see the blood from her knees was seeping onto him. Without thinking, his hand was suddenly on her knees, tracing the fresh cuts.

Faith's head turned to look at his hand. Her fingers snaked out and settled on his. He looked to see her eyes staring at him. "Thank you." Her voice was cracked, hardly above a whisper, but surprisingly steady. "The first time I woke up screaming, my neighbor called the police. If you hadn't been here, I would've screamed for nearly two hours."

Fear grabbed him and his stomach felt sick. The first time? It had happened before? She sounded as if this was a usual thing for her, something common and expected. He refocused on her legs. "We should clean you up." He stood up from the bed, cradling her like a baby. He felt strange, holding her like this. He walked her to the adjoining bathroom, and set her down on the counter. Reaching down below the sink, he grabbed a first aid kit.

"Stephen," He looked up to see her looking at him strangely, eyes puffy. Her eyes looked different, darker maybe. "Why are you so kind to me?"

Her question caught him off guard. "You are a victim; it is my duty to protect you." He shrugged. "I guess it's what God would want me to do, heal the hurting. Or at least try to." He attempted a smile.

She looked down, face pondering.

With gentle hands, he wiped the blood off her arms and legs. He bandaged her knees with gauze, and then left her in the bathroom. Stephen checked his watch as he walked downstairs. 4:27. He heard Faith moving around upstairs, opening doors and shuffling drawers. _A hot cup of tea, that's what she needs. _He decided.

Putting a kettle of water on the stove, he searched his cupboards, hoping to find a nice selection. Stephen rarely made tea, instead preferring coffee. He found a 'Mint Medley' and 'Sleepy Bear'. Placing the selections on the counter, he considered his next move. Faith had just had a traumatic nightmare, flashing back to who knows what, and needed comfort. Would she need strong and silent? Or quietly comforting? Possibly a little of both?

Stephen shook his head and tried to push away his feelings. Focus on reality, he tried to pound into his head. This was what he'd been trained for. To be able to help others cope through hard times. Basic protocol could fix this problem.

First, he needed to get the victim back into reality. Not in a harsh wave of true life, but gently letting her step from the shore into the water's edge. He assumed that that had been accomplished. Faith wasn't dreaming anymore, and her injuries were bandaged up. Reality had stepped in and shook her hard, but at least she seemed to be alright.

Second, he needed to stabilize the victim. If the victim was in shock, he would need to situate her with something familiar, something real. Tea was his solution. Warm liquid often acted as a balm on their battered hearts, and so tea would be good.

Finally, he had to analyze the situation. Find out why the victim had been in the situation that they had been in. The reasons, influences and the end result. Was there an enemy involved? Where was he now? Was the victim in a safe place, or did she need to be taken to a protected house? How many people were involved? Does the victim need medical help? The skilled could accomplish this gently, without hurting the victim or jarring up unwanted memories.

As soon as these three steps were finished, the victim should be alright. Stephen had accomplished two of them. The last step was the hardest.

Stephen heard Faith coming down the stairs. He turned in her direction and saw that the kettle was steaming. Lifting the kettle from the stove, he poured two cups of hot water in time for Faith to walk into the kitchen. Her eyes seemed bluer and clearer, as if the fog had been washed away in only a few minutes.

"I thought some tea would be nice." He gestured to the steaming cups.

"Thanks." She took a tea bag and dipped it into her cup, leaning up against the counter, and faced him. "I wanted to say that I really appreciate what you've done for me these past few days." She looked down. Her voice held the effects of her screaming and sounded painful, hardly above a whisper. When her eyes came back up, they were red. "I've never really had someone care for me that way, and I just really..." she sniffed as her voice got wobbly. Her eyes were teary, and she looked extremely vulnerable and alone all of a sudden.

His heart felt weak just looking at her, and he held his arms out. "Come here."

She sniffed again, and fell into his embrace. "Thanks." She whispered into his neck. She paused, and Stephen rubbed her back. "If you weren't here, I would've screamed for hours, and eventually lost my voice."

Stephen nearly winced at her voice. It sounded raspy and slightly strained. After a few moments, they pulled apart, and Faith wiped her eyes. She leaned back against the counter, and took a sip of tea. She closed her eyes and breathed in the minty steam wafting up from her cup.

He took in the sight of her, baggy shirt and ruffled pants, and felt a protectiveness take him. She was so young, and small, and needed someone to protect her. He wondered about her parents, about her friends. Where were they? Sure, protocol said no contact with the outside world, but it seemed like no one had tried to reach her, to find out where she was, or what she was up to. He felt slightly sorry for her. She never talked about her friends, or about when she could go back to her own house. The only relevant thing that she had mentioned was a question about her editor and artist crew up in San Fran. She asked if she could phone her boss, and explain why she wouldn't be working this week.

Faith tilted her head over at the clock and wrinkled her nose. "I am so sorry, Stephen." She looked back at him. Faith hooked a thumb over at the blinking stove. "Four forty-three is really early."

He shrugged. "No problem."

She shook her head. "No, it is a problem. You should go to bed."

"Only if you go first. I couldn't sleep knowing that you were up and about."

"I couldn't sleep either." She straightened herself and looked him square in the eye.

He looked back, and tried to see into her, tried to imagine to images that had plagued her sleep. "What made you wake up?"

She looked away, at the wall to the right. "Memories."

He remembered the feeling of her scarred back, and frowned. He didn't want to dig, but also wanted to know. Maybe whoever had caused those scars was connected to this case. Maybe that was the missing thread, the lost link. Maybe if he knew about her past, or maybe something that was vaguely present, he could figure her out. Maybe if he knew what he was protecting her from, other than the run-away criminal who had tried to shoot her, he could protect her better.

Didn't she trust him? Maybe if he used it as an excuse for the case? That it was mandatory for him to know her past in order for him to protect her. Something like that. Maybe then he could see into her eyes, and see her instead of the barriers that were barred before her soul. Maybe life would be easier.

Maybe time would slow.

Maybe the earth would stop spinning.

Maybe love wouldn't hurt.

Stephen smirked at the impossible and shook his head.

If only 'maybes' weren't so hard to reach.


	22. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

James Mayee felt helpless.

Falling down a huge hill with no place to stop. Grabbing desperately at the seams of his life and trying to sow them back together. Jabbing at the light switch, but remaining in the dark. Struggling for breath as his weight got heavier and heavier. Grasping at a parachute chord that wasn't there. Swimming in air. Falling through time.

The house had been bugged; he'd paid the sketch artist. But Stephen Lightridge was relentless. The way he'd leaned over Faith and helped her up and stayed by her side disgusted him. And then they'd kissed! After they screamed at each other! He shook his head.

James was supposed to keep an eye on them, and keep them away from each other. But how was he supposed to do that when he was stuck as the invisible television screen watcher?

Beginning to pace, he clenched his fists and reviewed his instructions. He was to go after the girl. Get her away from Stephen and into his own arms. Then he'd destroy her.

A beeping interrupted his thoughts. He turned to the screen.

They were awake.

He sat back down and reviewed his plan.

Before the phone call, Tanner had been sent to kill Faith. He'd messed up, of course, and now he was dead. Then, James was supposed to go after her and kill her. Witson had phoned and requested otherwise. Why kill her, when you could break her? Make her love you and then torture her so she begged for death. It would take care of Stephen as well.

Faith had said that she had wanted to go and pick up a few of her things. There was a car waiting outside for him to go anywhere, whenever. Stephen was the only obstacle.

James picked up the phone and dialed Walton.

"Hello sir, yes it's me. I was just about to go and get our victim to collect some of her things; Stephen mentioned that she had requested that. Yes sir. May I voice a concern? I fear that Stephen has become too friendly with Miss Woods. A relationship may have sprouted. Yes. Ok. Thank you sir. Goodbye."

He grinned, stepped from the monitor, and opened the door. Now that Stephen was taken care of, James just needed to get friendly with the girl.

Walking from the building and onto the curb, James ushered the driver. He smiled as the car drove towards him. This was going to be fun.

He wouldn't get mad at her, the way Stephen had, but be nice, kind and charming. He would help her collect her things, making small talk and laughing. First, he needed her to be comfortable around him. Then he'd ask her out, and she'd come to love him.

Sliding into the back of the car, James directed the driver to Stephen's house. In a couple of minutes they arrived, and James stepped out of the car and up to the door. After ringing the bell, and a few muffled voices, Faith opened the door dressed in an emerald top and jeans.

James smiled kindly and showed her his badge. "Hello, Miss Woods. Stephen had mentioned that you wanted to go to your house and collect your things."

She looked puzzled. "Yes."

"Please follow me."

"Yes, just one moment." She turned and disappeared somewhere into the house. She returned with her purse, Stephen trailing behind. Faith slipped on a pair of sneakers and looked at them expectantly.

Confusion colored Stephen's face.

James spoke up before Stephen could speak. "Walton had said that Faith wanted to go to her house, and since you were busy, he suggested that I go."

"Oh, well that's fine." He looked at Faith, and something flickered in his eyes. "You can wait in the car, we'll meet you there."

"We?" James quirked a brow as Faith ran past them to the driveway.

"Yes, Walton wanted me to check in with Ariel and review info. She's at the scene."

James nodded. "Have you found anything new?"

"Faith's whole family is dead and her father could've been in debt for gambling and alcohol. That's the most promising reason why she could be on a hit list. You?"

"Ariel and I found Tanner dead in the woods behind the ACSI, and we've got a lying secretary. Ariel will tell you more specific's."

Stephen's brow rose in surprise, but he just nodded.

They both walked towards the car quickly and found Faith inside. After quick directions, they were at her house.

Stephen stole a glance their way as he walked to where Ariel was analyzing shoeprints in the yard. James smiled as he led Faith towards her home. Time to start charming.

"You're comfortable at Stephen's?" he looked at her.

"Yes."

He opened the door for Faith and stepped behind her. "You have a beautiful house."

"Thank you."

He wasn't getting through. James decided to try a different approach. Maybe being more forward would soften her. "You know, they say a person's house reflects its occupant."

"Really?" She sounded skeptical.

They walked into her bedroom. James stepped beside her. "And you are very beautiful."

Faith stared at him. Their eyes met and he watched her look deep into his eyes. He tried to soften his eyes, to look innocent. She looked away. "We should probably get started."

James nodded.

They walked through her house, occasionally grabbing things and putting them into multiple bags Faith had gotten from her bedroom. James tried to be charming, but it seemed Faith wasn't interested. Or was really good at pretending. He had dropped hints throughout the event, but it just seemed to make her further herself from him. When they were in her office, he had tried the pressing approach.

"Wow, you drew this?" He stepped up to a framed drawing of a tree that looked amateur. But hey, anyone could make money these days.

"No." she walked past him, sounding impatient. "That is my students."

He felt his face flush.

"But these," she pointed to much better drawings, drawings that he'd mistaken as photographs. "These are mine."

"Double wow! Faith, you are an amazing artist." He watched as she collected drawing pencils and a sketchbook. He looked closer at the pictures. They were amazing. "Work matches worker. Beautiful, detailed, intelligent, so-"

"Please! I know that you like me, and I can see that you have womanized many different girls before, but I intend not to become one of those girls. Now can we please try and finish this before I fall into your charming embrace?" He caught her sarcasm and huffed.

Switching to feign innocence, he appeared shocked. "Faith, I was only trying to make it less uncomfortable and starch. But I will say that your brilliant eyes do make me distracted."

Faith frowned and shook her head.

They completed the rest of the task in silence. When they stepped outside, Faith set out in search of Stephen.

James was disgusted.

How could Faith have so easily dismissed his compliments? She must really like Stephen, he decided. Well, he would just have to break them up. Plant a seed of doubt into each of their heads that would have them avoiding each other. Then he would attack.

James knew he had to act fast. They had already kissed, and they were always together. He hoped Stephen wouldn't try and get too friendly. That he wouldn't hold her tight again and make her trust him.

If Stephen was smart and good, he would focus on the AM instead of Faith. That would give James time and room to move in on Faith. He would go slow and try to be helpful instead of complimentary. She'd fall for that.

Before she fell completely.


	23. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER 22**

Faith twisted a lock of hair into her curling iron.

Today was the day; she could feel it in her bones. Mr. Walton had called a meeting with everyone on the AM case and they would compare information. A breakthrough was near. With all the information coming together, they could tie up loose ends and solve the case. Faith didn't know much about solving police cases, but she suspected that they usually did this at the end of one, when they were certain of the answer and was just reviewing the facts.

She wasn't sure of what they have found yet, but it had been two weeks. Surely they had lots of information and facts, facts that pointed to the villain, the man who had shot at her, and then killed Bob Tanner. She knew that Tanner had been the one who had shot at her, but he had done it for a reason. For the same reason that he had been killed, the reason that pointed to some sort of group, cult or association that was trying to get rid of her.

After they'd found Tanner's dead body, Stephen and Ariel had convinced Walton that Faith wasn't safe, and should be protected for a while longer. Her protection was suspended for another week. Faith was pretty sure that Stephen wanted to have her around for a while longer, before he went back to his police officer life, and she went to San Fran to visit with her boss. But, maybe he was just concerned for her safety.

Faith let her curl fall into place. She didn't usually curl her hair, but with all the excitement, and because she wanted to make an impression, she had decided to curl it. Her hair was naturally straight, so it was easiest to straighten it a bit more to make it perfect, but she looked best in curls. Or so she thought. Only one problem. She looked at the clock.

7:13.

Faith stifled a yawn as she placed and sprayed her newest curl.

The meeting was scheduled for 10 am. Faith had to do her hair, make-up, outfit and breakfast, plus an additional twenty minutes for driving. All that, and only two hours and forty-seven minutes. And she was only on her first layer.

Faith's hair was simple, but could be worn in nearly anything. Her bangs were parted to the left and usually swept to the side while her hair fell to just above her hip-bone, but not quite at her waist or belt. When she curled it though, it was shorter by about an inch.

Layers suited her best.

While she usually straightened her hair, when she wanted to make a statement, she curled it. Faith couldn't curl all of it, so she curled half of the first layer, and mostly all of the rest, so they covered the uncurled hair.

Back-combing the back and sides so she didn't look flat, she was now shaping her first layer into auburn locks.

Faith twisted a lock of hair into her curling iron.

Her mission today was simple. Prove that work could be done both elegantly and professionally, and to impress Stephen. He hadn't seen her fancy side yet. And, of course, to help solve the AM case.

Faith eyed her hair, sprayed it once more, and let down another layer, pinning up the rest. She resumed her curling.

Impressing Stephen was really more of an afterthought. It wasn't like she spent every waking hour thinking about him. Wasn't like she dreamt about his brown hair and green eyes sparkling at her. Wasn't like she wished that they could be together, instead of being separated by the AM case.

Really.

Faith just really liked him. She hoped he felt the same way.

But there had been no more coffee dates. Stephen's life seemed consumed with the AM, and it felt like he was avoiding her. Yes, he smiled at her and talked to her. But it was always about the case, about what he was working on. Small talk.

Sure, he was a police officer and she was the victim. Sure, he was four years older. Sure, they hadn't met before these past weeks. Sure, she was a guest. Sure, he was supposed to be protecting her.

But yes, they'd already kissed. Yes, she was falling for him. Yes, she was certain that she saw a flicker of desire in his eyes. Yes, she tried to please him. Yes, she paid more attention to what she looked like now.

But so what?

Faith twisted a lock of hair into her curling iron.

He probably didn't want to get into any kind relationship. Since she was the victim, Stephen probably couldn't be emotionally involved or he could get kicked off the team. He was probably just being safe, probably was trying to do what was best for both of them.

Probably.

Faith groaned and set down the curler.

An ache in her stomach spread to her chest as her throat started to close. Faith steadied herself against the counter and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing. Her throat opened.

This had happened a couple times to her before, and from what she could figure, it was a panic attack or an aftereffect.

Ever since fourteen years ago and the counseling amid that, she'd had aftereffects. When her father abused her for nearly two years, it had messed up her nerves. Now, they randomly sent signals the wrong way and made her lose control of her body. But they usually happened when her emotions were the most messed up. She figured her body couldn't handle so much going on at once. It had happened during her 'incident' after the sketch artist had come, and again when she had her nightmare.

Faith twisted a lock of hair into her curling iron.

She viewed her hair, fixed and placed the locks, and sprayed. She let down the last layer and checked the time.

7:45.

The meeting wasn't the only reason why she was fancying herself. Stephen's mom, sister, and father he hadn't seen for nearly two decades, were coming for five days. Faith hoped he would introduce her as a friend. But then again, he relation to him was varied. Victim, client, witness and roommate all fit the bill.

She didn't know what to expect. She'd heard that Stephen's mother, Baylee, was a firm Christian who loved her children dearly and who was honest and hardworking. His father seemed heartless and self-centered. But then, that was usual with most fathers. Not a big surprise. He had left because of Trinity's illness, never looking back.

But then again, everyone regrets something.

Faith twisted a lock of hair into her curling iron.

She would help Stephen prepare the meal and try to find out more about his parents. Trinity would probably be the easiest to deal with. His parents would be tense, as would Stephen, and poor Trinity would try to stay happy and carefree between the battlefields.

Hopefully, they would like her. It would seem strange to a purebred Christian that her son was living with a woman. But they were not in a relationship, it was strictly business. He was merely protecting her, since her house was unsafe. Besides, she had heard that her house was nearly ready to move into. After two weeks, Faith hoped that they had collected enough evidence to make some leads.

Their last, and first, coffee date came to her. She hated having to lie to Stephen, but she couldn't risk having him know the truth. It was bad enough that he knew her father abused her. Telling him about the hospitals, the counseling and foster homes would be too much. Faith didn't want him to think she was weak or insecure.

Her burn was fake. It was a scar, as was the 'bike' scar, caused by her father. Faith was glad it was autumn, almost winter. It gave her a reason not to wear tank-tops and swimsuits. She hid her scars best in the colder seasons where she could wear as many layers as she wanted.

The scars on her wrists were never completely removed or healed, so she usually wore over-wide bracelets and watches. Surgery and proper healing removed most scars on her arms and legs, but they said that her back was too much, unless she wanted a full-out plastic surgery, which she didn't. Besides, her shirts covered most of them. Her sleeves just couldn't be too short. For now though, she was safe.

Faith twisted a lock of hair into her curling iron.

She had most of her things packed, only her clothes and toiletries weren't stuffed into her small GG bag. Stephen had invited her to stay for dinner, and she would move back into her house tomorrow.

It would be strange to wake up without someone to share breakfast over. Strange to get back into her routine of art. Strange to live alone again, to be left to fend for herself and to be forced to do everything by herself. She planned on fixing up the sketches she had done here; possibly send them to her editor.

But she did miss her house, her horse, her bedroom and clothes. As soon as she got back, she wanted to go for a long ride out in her yard. Stephen had said that he rode too. She could invite him sometime. Maybe.

The feel of her horses back moving in rhythm with her legs was enough to soothe all bits of herself that was tense and afraid. Autumn was a brilliant white with a reddish brown mane and tail. She could run the wind and loved Faith like a best friend. Autumn seemed the best name for her back when she got her, a year ago. And Autumn she remained.

Faith relived the wind on the face and the sun at her back and her heart ached for Autumn. She hadn't seen her in two weeks.

Faith twisted a lock of hair into her curling iron.

She eyed her curls, placed ad sprayed. Doing a full around-the-head check with mirrors, she fixed a few curls and sprayed. Checking the clock, she quickly pulled out her make-up.

8:37

Her long fingers flew over her limited make-up selection. She powdered and lightly brushed blush onto her cheeks. A dusty rose for her eyelids; thin, straight eyeliner. After sweeping her eyelashes into perfection, she rolled on lipstick.

Perfect.

Faith tried on multiple outfits, finally settling on a red blouse with a grey blazer and black skirt. Black pumps and she was on her way downstairs.

9:12

Stephen nearly choked as she floated into the kitchen.

Good. She still had that effect.

Faith watched as his eyes traveled the length of her. He blinked and found her eyes staring at him. "You look amazing."

Stephen's eyes started to migrate again. She giggled and he snapped his eyes to hers. He smiled.

Faith grabbed a muffin. She saw Stephen eye her once again. She knew that her skirt accentuated her hips, but she hadn't known that it was that evident. As Stephen rushed to fill his briefcase, Faith stopped thinking about the case. She nibbled on her muffin as she leaned against the counter, and watched Stephen hurry about. She could faintly see his muscles beneath his button-up shirt and his face was cleanly shaven. Stephen caught her looking at him and she blushed, looking away. She felt his eyes on her, and she glanced at him, seeing him look away also.

Stephen's hair seemed exceptionally handsome today, and his eyes shone with determination. Were his eyes always that brilliant of a green? She looked again, and blushed as he caught her glance. Faith's mind stopped wandering to her problems and worries. Because now there was only two thoughts that dominated all other thoughts. How good Stephen looked.

And how they couldn't keep their eyes off each other.


	24. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER 23**

The meeting had droned on for nearly 3 hours. In her four years of working as an artist, this had to be the worst meeting ever. No meeting had been so disappointing, so useless and long and boring. She didn't even understand half of the scientific words that they used to describe Bob Tanner's lifeless body. 3 hours full of facts and evidence that all shouted one thing.

Failure.

They had no leads, no suspects. Nothing to show for two weeks of long hours and pouring through files. Lots of evidence with heads and no tails and not a clue where to go next. They didn't say it so frankly, but Faith was sure that that was the thought racing through everyone's heads.

Bob Tanner's body showed nothing except that his neck was cut with a switchblade that could have been bought at any hunters shop. In Cassey there was only one, and after a quick questioning, came up empty. The last buyer was in New York for nearly a month on business. Tanner had been drunk. The bar tender who remembered Tanner couldn't remember who had came and talked to him, except that he was a young white male. That's all that they could come up with. No prints, no skin, no evidence.

This had to be their sixth murder in around eighty-five years, the age of Cassey itself, and the only one that wasn't solved. Clearly the murderer had the advantage of this. Not to say that they weren't professional. In fact, they were so professional it was why they were taking so long. They had triple checked every fiber and stone that was found on every scene. Their reports were pages long, full of useless information. They didn't want to miss anything. At all.

Faith doodled a squiggled line on her notepad beside the words NO SUSPECTS. She added NO EVIDENCE. NOTHING. Walton was summing up the meeting and adding responsibilities.

"… And Ariel can work with Stephen with reviewing interview notes, and writing a final report. Faith," She finished writing and looked up. ARIEL & STEPHEN = FINAL REPORT. "Your house is ready for you to live in again. We won't need your help anymore, unless we get a lead and need some information."

She smiled at him. If. She picked up her notes and excused herself, feeling her last bit of hope drain at those last words. She suddenly felt extremely exhausted, and put her bag down beside the closed door.

Faith leaned against the wall next to the door. She couldn't take being in there. Sure, hearing that the case was useless wasn't that bad. Even to watch their faces drop and voices become somber. But for them to continue to try and work through it? That was insanity.

They had already looked at everything from every possible angle and still came up blank. They shouldn't have to work so hard to help her. Faith wasn't that special.

The door opened and out stepped Stephen. "We can go now, if you want."

Faith nodded.

As they walked outside and drove back to Stephen's house, Faith's mind was bouncing off the walls. Stephen tried to keep up a conversation, but Faith was so engrossed in her thoughts, he stopped trying halfway through.

Why were they so oblivious to the facts screaming at them in the face? Wake up and smell the concrete! The case was going nowhere, the threat was gone and all of their reports had already been rewritten at least three times. Why were they still trying? Why were they still looking and investigating, still searching and still coming up with loose ends? Still believing and hoping? Still trying everything to get a suspect and still being shut down?

And why did they care so much about her?


	25. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER 24**

"I don't understand why you guys keep trying to solve the case. It's useless."

Stephen stared at Faith, leaning against his counter. He hated to think that tomorrow she would be back at her house, and he would never be able to see her lean up against his counter again. He shook his head from his thoughts and focused on Faith's answer again.

"Why do you say that?"

" Because I am not that important. The only reason why I'm living with you is for protection. The threat is gone, and your investigation isn't working. Nobody has ever thought me important, or worth saving before. I'm not that big of a deal. You guys should just quit, and go back to whatever you were doing before I came and ruined everything."

His mind slowed and his heart stopped pumping. Faith, not important? Not worth saving? He took a breath and shook his head. "Well, before you came, we weren't doing anything. You've helped add more excitement to our lives." He let that soak in. "Faith, you are important. You are one of God's children, a human being, and a life. Every life is precious and worth saving, worth protecting."

"I wouldn't be a life if Tanner would've just killed me two weeks ago. He would still be alive, and I wouldn't have messed up this perfect town's natural routine." Her voice held a touch of regret and something close to guilt.

"Faith, don't you dare blame yourself for this."

"And if I do? You said yourself, every life is special. Why shouldn't I feel sadness for what happened to him?"

" Sadness is one thing, guilt is another. Don't be remorseful for running away and saving yourself. You'll just be telling yourself lies. You are important." Faith looked down. "I care about you, we all do. It's just the spirit of Cassey."

She looked away, avoiding his eyes. An idea hit him. Her father. He must've brought her down. That's why she kept telling herself that she was useless. That's what she had been told all her life, so it was natural that she would believe it. Stephen tried to reason.

"Faith, whatever you father did to you, it is the past, and I will never judge or leave you for it."

She looked up sharply. Surprise jumped in her eyes, and her shoulders stiffened. "What do you know about my father?"

So he had been right. Sharp pain and hurt shone in her eyes, and her face suddenly was stricken and paler. "When we first met, you kind of went into a trance and mentioned your father."

Her eyes shot downward and her voice dropped. "Oh."

"Faith," Stephen leaned in, softening his voice, "I don't snoop in on people's past unless I have their permission."

Faith looked up. "Did you have a father?" He let her change the subject without comment.

"Everyone has a father."

She rolled her eyes. "Did you grow up with a dad?"

His jaw stiffened. "No."

"Bet you wish you did."

He paused. "Yes."

"Be careful what you wish for," her voice dropped so he had to strain to hear her, "You just might get it."

Frustration assailed him. By trying to get the subject off her past, she was attacking his. She's in a bad mood, he tried to tell himself. He decided to take the risk. What could happen? She'd get mad, and storm off. Big deal.

"Did you have a father?"

"Everyone has a father."

"Did you grow up with a dad?"

She paused, and he saw her eyes grow hard. "Yes."

"Bet you wish you didn't." His voice held no question.

She glared up at him from beneath her lashes. "What exactly are you trying to accomplish?"

He smiled wryly. "I don't know, what were you?"

"Just curious."

" Curiosity killed the cat." He shot.

"Then it's a good thing I know my boundaries." She shot back.

"And I don't?"

" No, but most kids who grew up without fathers wish that they had. It was just an assumption."

"Right back at you."

Faith glowered at him and looked away. Why was she so difficult? More questions entered his head. "So you are grateful that you had a father?"

Her shoulders tensed as she shook her head. He imagined her rolling her eyes. "I never said that."

"You never didn't." Yes, he was being stubborn.

When Faith looked back, her eyes had been replaced with sadness. He face suddenly looked so young, and innocent. He took her hand. "You can trust me."

She took her hand back, and walked away from the counter. She took a step away from him. "You don't know anything about me." Her voice was suddenly bitter.

His heart ached. "But I want to." Why couldn't she just see that? Just understand?

"No you don't"

How could she be so sure of herself? So rejecting of any thoughts that suggested anything emotional or relational? So quick to deny and slow to accept? "How can you know that?"

She bit her lip. "Nobody can deal with it. People can't handle it, and so they block what I say out of their lives. Block me out of their lives. Spread rumors, and can't keep secrets."

"Try me."

She stared into his eyes, looking for some sort of hidden reassurance that would let her bright blue eyes open up to him, to let him look into her soul the way she was right now. "No."

Disappointment nearly made him fall as he shook his head and took a step towards her. "Why not?"

"I don't trust cops."

More disappointment, some anger. "What?" His voice sounded sharper than he'd intended.

"You pretend to care just to get what you want to solve your case, and then you don't want anything to do with me. I can tell how obsessed you are with this case. Without me, you won't finish it, and when it's done, you'll have no need for me."

How could she think like that? Did she really think that he thought of her as an object? Something that could be thrown away as soon as it fulfilled its use? "Faith, I'm not like that, I swear. I do care; I want to be your friend."

She laughed coldly and shook her head.

By the looks of it, Faith didn't have any friends or family to lean on when life got tough. And it seemed like life had been tough a lot. But by the looks of it, she wasn't looking for any. "Faith, you're living in my house. Obviously I care enough to protect you, isn't it only fair to know for whom the protection is for?"

"You know why you're protecting me." She stepped back, lengthening the distance between them.

"But the protection wouldn't be so formal if I knew from what you needed protection against." He stepped towards her, gaining ground.

"So you can finish your case and then get rid of me."

"No!"

"Then why? Why is my life so important to you?" She stepped back again.

" Because I care!" _Because I love you! _He wanted to shout.

Faith shook her head.

Stephen couldn't understand why it was so hard for her to trust him. Even to tell him some of the truth couldn't hurt. He'd be satisfied. Maybe if he pried a bit deeper.

"Just tell me a bit about your father, what he did to you."

Faith looked away and set her jaw. "He physically abused me." Her voice was void of any emotion.

"When did he die?"

" When I was five." Monotone

"What did he do?"

"Physically abused me." No really? He was getting nowhere.

"How?"

"You don't need to know that."

"But I want to."

"Well, I want a lot of things that just aren't happening, so why don't you just suck it up and mind your own business?"

"Please! I'm just trying to figure you out. How did your father physically abuse you?"

"You've got a great imagination, you guess." Great. Make him make it up. This could end badly.

"He hit you." She let out a short, cold laugh. "He kicked you."

"Usually." Usually?

"He…I don't know, threw you against walls? Through windows?"

"Occasionally."

"I was kidding." Occasionally? Her father _occasionally _threw her through a window? Against a wall? What in the world…_Lord, please help me find the right words! She's been hurt real bad. _

"Well, I wasn't." She turned back to him, eyes hard. As he looked at her, he saw her hands start to shake. She took a step back, towards the stairs.

"Faith?"

She was looking over his shoulder, suddenly dazed. "Yeah?"

"Your hands are shaking."

"Oh." She held her hands to make them still. Eyes still dazed. Stephen noticed her face pale, and he realized how slight and delicate she was. He took a step towards her, in case she fainted.

"Faith!" He barked. She blinked and looked at him. Deep into her eyes, he saw that the barriers that were usually up, were now down, letting him see into her soul. Raw pain and a lifetime of forgotten memories drifted on the surface of her brilliant eyes, threatening to dominate. Her eyes looked so young and broken, and fear grabbed his heart. Her features softened and her hands began to shake as she stared at him, distant.

He should've never gone this far. Stephen stepped up to her and put his hands on her shoulders, shaking gently.

Faith shook him off. She came out of her daze in a flash and she stepped back wildly, eyes wide. She shook her head. "No! You can't just come here and ask me about my past, and then just keep going! That is mine, and you can't take it!" Her head kept shaking back and forth, as if she was trying to convince him that something was wrong. "My father was a very sick man who abused me! You know that, don't go any farther! Do you know how many nights I have wanted to just forget everything and live a normal life? Because of my father, I haven't had a home. Haven't had a family! Please." Suddenly she grew pale and her knee's wobbled. "Help…"

Her voice seemed younger, innocent, and it chilled Stephen's heart. He sensed that she was caught up in a memory, unaware of her real surroundings. Her plea was barely a whisper. She murmured something, some other appeal, and her eyes flickered around the room.

"Ok. Faith, I am so sorry…" Stephen desperately wanted to take that away, wipe away everything that her father had done to her. But that had been fourteen years ago and was over and done with. It was obvious that after all that time, she still hadn't gotten over the pain and the horror of what she had seen and been through.

Faith was still shaking her head. Her eyes were wide, and Stephen had a feeling that she was in the past. Gone again. She stared at his shoulder. "You don't know me." Her voice was cold.

"Faith, I-"

"No." She cut him off and stared into his eyes. In them, he saw the barriers back up, and a look that he'd only seen when someone had a gun to another's head, threatening a life. A crazed, desperate look.

Without warning, she darted to her left. She flew past him with wild eyes and jumped back. She hardly flinched as she hit the wall and swung her head around away from him. Her legs bent, preparing to spring away from the kitchen. Stephen turned and reached for her. Her head came back to face him, and she screamed as she saw his outstretched hand. He grabbed her shoulder, and shook hard. "Faith!"

Why was she always afraid of him? Why was it always him who set her off?

Faith stared at him, the terror draining fast from her eyes. Suddenly a tear rolled down her face, though her eyes were neither soft nor red. Alarmed, she looked down and hugged herself. She slid down the wall and buried her head in her arms.

Stephen bent down and scooped her up, holding her under her legs and wrapping one arm around her shoulders. Faith didn't resist, instead pressing her head into his neck. He walked through the kitchen and into his living room. He sat down on the couch and rubbed her back. She moaned and looked up at him, teary-eyed.

"Shh…It's ok." He murmured against her hair as she pressed her head into his chest. It reminded him of the night she had had her nightmare. Her, curled up in his lap, face soaking up his shirt; him holding and comforting her from her demons.

They sat like that for a while, Stephen holding Faith while she cried. She clutched his shirt tight as her shoulders shook, and he suddenly felt his desire growing. She was the perfect size, fitting nicely against him. Stephen knew that he should be thinking about Faith's problem, and her past, but he could think of everything but.

She was so close to him, pressed into his chest. So close. Close enough to feel her heartbeat pounding erratically in unstable patterns. Close enough to smell her perfume, a nice fruity sensation. Close enough to sense how fragile and weak she was, just how small her body was; how insecure she was and of need of someone to protect her, to keep her safe. The feel of her so near, was so right.

Stephen rubbed her back, trying to calm the tremors that shook her small frame.

Her hair smelt like apples.

Stephen liked the smell of apples.

Faith lifted her head and stared deep into his eyes. She had the barriers down, and now seeing her feelings revealed, he was sure that she was feeling desire as well. He could see all the way into her soul, and he was sure that his eyes were soul-showing as well. A raw pain and slight fear echoed deep into the vast blueness of her irises, and Stephen felt desperation to hold all the wrong away.

She sniffed. "I wish I could tell you…"

"Shh…" He lifted his hand from her back and placed it on the side of her face, wiping away her tears. Stephen had a feeling that whatever she couldn't tell him, he wouldn't want to know. He sensed that it was insane, and might haunt him. He traced her jaw-line, and with a desire that was unnatural, brushed her lips with his.

Their kiss was one of sorrow and passion. It lasted for nearly a minute, and when Stephen finally broke the connection, Faith's eyes were no longer teary.

Stephen held her face with both hands. Faith unclenched her hands from his shirt and let them fall around his neck. His breath caught as he stared at her face, only inches from his own. Such a beautiful, perfect face.

He kissed her lightly on the mouth.

"Stephen…"Her voice was barley a whisper, and he couldn't help but enjoy the way it sounded on her lips, the way his name rolled off her tongue. He silenced her with a trail of kisses on her forehead, temple, cheek, nose. Her found her mouth and kissed her passionately. His hands moved down from her back to her waist, and he held her tight up against him.

She pushed him back with her palms. "Stephen, aren't your parents going to be here soon?"

The desire lifted like a fog. What was he doing? Kissing Faith like that was not a way to honor God, or her. She had been in pain, grieving for her past, and all he could think about was kissing her. What was wrong with him? Stupid, stupid. Faith was staring into his eyes, expecting an answer.

"Yes." She leaned back, lengthening the distance between them. "Are you Ok?" He searched her eyes.

Faith sniffed and nodded. "I don't know what happened, I just freaked out. I-I couldn't breathe and then I felt trapped and had to get out. Sorry I scared you."

"No!" Stephen lifted her off him, and stood up. "Don't be sorry. I shouldn't have asked all those questions. Besides I like helping you."

She smiled, and with a last hug, they went into the kitchen.

During the making of supper, they didn't talk much. Stephen was busy beating himself up over trying to make a move on Faith to really focus on supper that, even though his mom's famous spaghetti sauce was imprinted in his head, he almost messed up on the spices. Soon, Faith went upstairs to get ready. As she walked upstairs, Stephen couldn't help but watch her, and wonder how she could make herself look better than she had when they were together.

Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang. Faith came down the stairs as Stephen opened the door. He stepped back as he took in Bayllie, Trinity, and a strange man, presumably his father, standing on his doorstep.

"Stephen!" His mother lunged forward and strangled him in a hug. Faith came up behind him.

"Hey mom." Stephen stepped away from Bayllie and looked at Faith. She was all curls and long legs under a black dress. He took a breath, and averted his gaze. "I'd like you to meet Faith."

Bayllie smiled warmly at Faith. "This lovely lady is the victim you're protecting?"

Faith blushed and took a step towards her. "I'm Faith Woods. You must be Bayllie Lightridge." She offered a hand.

Bayllie took the hand and gave a firm shake. Just like his mom, to be strong and kind. He gave the man a side glance, and smiled at Trinity. A lopsided grin tugged at her lips as she rushed forward. "Brother!" Her chubby hands gripped him tight in a strong hug.

"Hey sis." He stepped out of her embrace. "I hear you're going to see the little white men."

Trinity giggled sweetly and nodded her head twice. Ever since she had been old enough to speak, she had been calling her doctors the 'little white men'. The name stuck.

Faith smiled at the man, and Bayllie stepped back to his side. Stephen felt torn, wanting to scream at him, asking how he could just leave and then come back after all this time; yet at the same time, wanting to rush at him and forgive him, have God restore their relationship. Bayllie gave the man a smile, and looked at Stephen. "Stephen, I'd like you to meet your father, Tom."

Stephen tensed as the man stepped forward. He recognized the dark green eyes and chiseled face from the mirror, minus the blonde hair and elder features. No doubt that he was his father. Stephen was slightly taller than him, and he stared into his eyes, searching for some kind of apology, some reason why.

They shook hands.

His father's hand felt strong, and the feel of it brought up unwanted feelings. Feelings of love, and remembrance. Of when he had fallen, and that very hand had lifted him back up. Of when that very hand had passed him the ball in a one-on-one basketball game. How that hand had high-fived him when he got a basket, and how it held his shoulders tight when he explained that there was something wrong with his new sister. How that hand hadn't even waved at him as he drove away from them, out of their lives. And how he had missed that hand and couldn't understand why that hand would never be there anymore.

Stephen invited them in for supper, and as they ate the spaghetti and laughed about recent memories, he couldn't focus. He kept falling back onto that last point. How that hand, and his entire Father, would never be there anymore.

He lifted a forkful of pasta and sauce into his mouth, and wondered above all else, why his Father had come back.

And how he could ever forgive him.


	26. Chapter 25

**CHAPTER 25**

Faith stepped down to the next stair-step, and felt her heart break.

She had excused herself from the table when the dinner was done, giving them time to talk, figure things out. She assumed that that was what should happen when a father comes home. Maybe a celebration. Apologies and tears and a chance to re-unite, to bond together and love one another again. The father wouldn't do anything rash, would try to be nice and kind, hoping that the child would forgive and learn to love him again.

So why was she hearing these words floating up from the kitchen? Why wasn't Stephen objecting? Why weren't they talking about family things? How could they be so small-minded? How could he think those things? On a first impression? After not even accepting the chance to try and get to know her? How could he?

Hurt stabbed at her heart, and she could do nothing but just stand there and listen.

"Who is she anyway?" A thick male voice that could only belong to Stephen's father accused.

"Her name is Faith, and she is an artist from San Francisco." No defense, just straight plain facts coming from Stephen.

"Honey, isn't she a little young for you? She seems so... different." Bayllie this time.

"Mom, she is nineteen."

"Son, aren't you supposed to be protecting her?" A pause. "Well then, why the chemistry?"

"What?"

" Honey, I think what Tom is trying to say is, well... Your feelings are easy to read, and we can tell that you like her. And she does too. You both living in the same house, with no-one else, is slightly dangerous and-"

"Mom, nothing is going on between us! She is a victim, and I am just protecting her. Besides, this is her last night. Tomorrow she gets to live by herself, in her own house." _Thank you Stephen. _The distrusting tones made images of her father's dark eyes swirl beneath the surface.The voices grew quieter and Faith stepped down a few steps to hear them.

"Now you listen here. That girl is nothing but trouble. I can tell by the way that you look at each other that something is up. Don't think that I will be so easily fooled as to think that you feel for her the same that you do for your sister here..."

Faith missed bits and pieces of the responses, but as soon as she went to step down lower, Stephen's father began to ridicule her again. "She is a good-for-nothing teenager who doesn't know what she is doing! She-"

Faith didn't wait to hear the rest. She needed to get out, now. Already the familiar voices were screaming in the back of her head, the same that always came when she was put down. Her father's voice echoed among the empty chasm that was her heart. _"You'll never amount to anything! I don't want you, and no one else does either! I'm the best thing that ever happened to you, girl, so you better be grateful that I'm kind enough to protect you. Without me, you would be nothing..." _

She quickly stepped down the rest of the stairs, and crept to the back door. A lifetime of grief swallowed all thinking, and she slammed the door behind her in fury. How dare he judge her that way? How dare Stephen just let him rant on and on about her worthlessness, without even defending her? Tom didn't even know her, didn't understand the way she was. He had no right to just throw away her worth like trash.

And his mother!

Wasn't she a Christian? Wasn't she supposed to love others, and be the image of Christ? This was exactly why she hated churches. They were so judgmental, so rude. They thought they were the best because God loved them. Did Bayllie think Faith was good-for-nothing too? How dare she?

Faith marched across Stephens' yard, aiming for a break in the forest. Maybe there she could sit down and think, process what she had just heard. Could figure out how to take her things without Stephen noticing, and leave tonight. Obviously he didn't care about her, so one less night wouldn't bother him much. After kissing her like that, the way he had tonight, she would've thought that he could try to pretend that he liked her; pretend that she meant something to him.

"Faith!" Stephen's voice rang out across his yard, and she walked faster. A door closed, and she heard footsteps. She picked up her pace, aiming for the forest. The footsteps quickened also, and on the ground she saw a long shadow catching up with hers. A hand grasped her shoulder. She shook it off with fury, and ground her teeth.

"Stephen!" Bayllie's voice sounded choked, as though she would be crying. Crying? For Stephen? What in the world? Bitterness choked Faith's heart, and made her teeth bite harder.

"Faith." Stephen grabbed her with both hands and turned her around. She stopped running, and turned to face him. She sent a glare at his face, which was painted in concern, and stepped back from him.

"I hate you, and your family. " She tried to make her voice as bitter as possible.

Stephen's eyes flew wide. "Faith I- I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh shut up! I heard everything your father said, and what you didn't say, and I'm done!"

"Faith...What exactly did you hear?"

Like he didn't know! "I am a good for nothing teenager, who is ruining your life. Your parents don't approve, and you didn't care to defend me even once! I'm done here." She turned and started walking away.

"Faith," He grabbed her shoulder again, and this time she turned to him and punched his stomach. His face displayed his shock and allowed her to run from him, giving her a head-start.

"Stephen, let her be." Faith frowned. That's right Stephen; listen to the father who hasn't been there for you your whole life!

No responding footsteps followed her, and as soon as she reached the opening in the trees, she slowed to a walk. She just needed time to cool down, to think things through. To regret and to grieve over their lost love. She leaned against a tree and let the first tear fall.

She had actually thought that he meant what he said. That he cared for her, and wanted to protect her. That he wanted to be her friend. That no matter what had happened, he would always love her. He had told her she was beautiful. He had held her when she was sad, helped her back onto her feet. And for what?

She started walking down the trail, leading herself deeper into the forest, farther away from Stephen. Faith let herself drown in self pity while she stepped carefully in the dim light. Why couldn't people just accept her for who she was? It was times like these when her hatred for her father burned hot and her belief in a loving God withered into ashes. Because of Darth, she was scared and scarred, forever haunted by her past. Nobody wanted someone like that. People wanted brave, charming others; shy and wary didn't fit the bill.

She kept walking, engrossed in her thoughts and grief, until she reached a small open area, almost like a clearing. The trees encircled it and small wildflowers sprinkled its center. She stepped into the clearing, now slightly afraid. She was in the wild, at night, where any predator could be prowling. Cautiously, Faith sat down in the center of the moonlit circle, eyes sending furtive glances around.

When she had convinced herself that the shadows were from the trees, and not from something dangerous, she allowed another tear to fall. How dare he? How could he? Why would he? How could someone judge another so harshly after just meeting them? Tom didn't know her, hadn't taken the time to talk, or to discover her better. First impressions were his only liability, and right now, they were vouching against her.

Faith put her head in her hands and, with a shuddering sob, wondered how she was ever going to go back into that house.

And how she could ever smile at Tom again.

Sliding up against a tree, James watched as tears rolled down Faith's face. _Look at the little brat, _he thought, disgusted. _She can't handle the insults, so she runs away and cries. _After watching the scene from the computer screen, he decided to get in on the action. It had taken him just under five minutes to drive to the house, park his jeep, and then start tracking. Time to scare her. Gripping the knife in the palm of his hand, he crept towards her on the balls of his feet. Her back shook slightly and he could hear her whimpering. He slipped the knife against her neck and whispered, " Shh ... Don't move or I'll slit your throat."

She stopped whimpering and her breathing quickened. Feeling the pulse in her neck steadily increase, he drew the knife closer to her neck so that it was touching skin. He watched as she pulled her knees close to her chest. Body shaking in fear, she began to cry again and he could hear her sucking in and out, trying to fight him with each breath. "I've got you now," he murmured and chuckled, a low raspy sound that cut into the darkness. Faith was completely still, hardly shaking.

"Now, my dear Faith, what are we going to do about this? You, being stubbornly attached to this police case, me, trying to protect you from it." He shook his head against her hair and took a breath, sucking on the sweet smell of her fruity shampoo. "And then there's that Stephen character. He just doesn't seem to fit into my little world." He ran his finger down her arm.

Faith opened her mouth, but before she could talk James cut in. "Now, you will talk when I say you can, is that understood?"

"Yes."

He shook his head against her hair again. "I didn't tell you to talk, did I?" He pressed the knife into her neck. She flinched. He released the pressure slightly, light enough not to draw blood. "Do you understand? You may speak."

"Yes." Surprisingly, her voice held no tremor, not even a slight bit of fear.

"Now, believe me when I tell you, this whole idea is crazy. There is no evidence, and your pretty little guardian will never be able to protect you against me. Trust me, this is going nowhere, and your policemen are just wasting their time. So Stop. Stop your investigation, and stop your thing with Stephen." Faith's back stiffened. "Oh, that won't be hard, I assume. After tonight, how could he pretend any longer?

"I have worked with Stephen many times, and I know all about him. He gets close to his victims, and then leaves them in the dirt. He doesn't care about you, he never has. Leave him, and everything will go on the way that they were before. You will continue your life as an artist, and he will be a simple after thought, a ripple in the water. Unwanted and unneeded." He smiled as he remembered the hurt look on Stephens face as Faith had run away.

"No one is to hear of our little date tonight, is that understood? You may speak."

"You're a monster without a heart. A sick minded man who doesn't give a thought to the well-being of others, a-"

James felt his anger grow. "And you are a small child who is useless and unwanted. Nobody cares about you, and no one will ever want you. A cowardly female who will never succeed in this world." He replaced his knife with his arm, nearly closing off her air pipe.

Faith gasped and her right hand came up and grabbed his arm, trying to loosen his hold. James reached down and let the knife cut into her left arm, slicing her forearm. She gasped and loosened her grip on his arm to look down at his incision. Distracted, she never noticed him let go of her throat and quickly back-pedal into the surrounding forest.

A cry of pain cut into the night as James watched Faith hold her arm, and scream at the sky. As he lightly ran towards his jeep hidden in the immediate forest, he heard her stumble blindly through the forest, probably going back to Stephen. "Faith," he shouted into the darkness. Her loud thrashing stopped. "Remember, I killed Bob Tanner. And I know where you live."

She continued to walk through the forest, but not as wildly and not as quick. Hopefully she could keep her mouth shut, because he meant what he said. He could keep a threat, and if those police men quickened their investigation, he would have to assume that she had told them.

He knew where she lived.

And he watched her sleep.


	27. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

Stephen scanned the tags, quickly pulling several files, including the one about Isabella Woods. It had been his father's case, taking place nearly fifteen years ago, but it might have something useful to help Faith. At any rate, it would give him a clearer window into Faith's world. He knew that she was related to Isabella somehow; maybe this would be the linking bridge.

He read the name, Isabella F. Woods. His mind clicked.

Quickly, he typed onto his computer for her birth certificate. It was uncommon for their middle names to be hidden on their files. He checked the screen. Loading. Opening the case file, Stephen searched for the police report. He was rewarded with a thick bundle of notes. He chose the first one, and read:

_June 5, 1996,_

_Isabella is uneager to share information. She is drawn back and afraid. She say's Isabella isn't her real name, but she isn't telling us anything else. She says, "My father hated me and my name. He locked me in our shed. He swore, and drank a lot of funny smelling liquid that Isabella says is called beer. My mother was very nice and loved God." Isabella's sister is named Isabella and she says that she uses that name because it would've pleased her father. She seems to hate her name as much as her father did. When we found her, she was beat and barley alive, as was her mother. Her father was found dead at the scene. We weren't able to save her mother, but Isabella recovered quite nicely. (This interview is taking place 3 years after the incident, after she had been counseled and fully recovered.)_

Stephen read on, horrified at what he was hearing. Could this be the link that he had prayed about? Maybe Isabella was Faith's sister, and was now dead, and Faith carried this haunting past about her sister being beaten by her father- Suddenly the computer beeped. His head jerked up and he gasped. Mary-Anne, Isabella's mother, had had twins. Isabella and Faith. His head clicked as the facts crashed together. Faith had pretended to be Isabella, because it pleased her Father. She was the one who was beat. He remembered the scar on her shoulder. _I fell off a bike… _

Stephen couldn't breathe. He sat, mouth hanging and eyes like saucers, gaping at the screen. Faith was this Faith? The girl without a childhood who had been hated? He gasped for air. The girl who had used her sister's name because she had been taught that her name wasn't good? Wasn't supposed to be hers? The girl who had watched her parents being murdered? Killed? A girl without a childhood? Stephen had heard of this case before, one of the biggest child-abusive fathers in history found dead at the scene of the crime.

Beep! Beep! He blindly fumbled for his phone, eyes glued to the computer. Beep! Beep! He clawed at his jacket, mind exploding. Beep! Beep! Ripping his eyes from the screen, he flipped his phone open. "Hello?" He blurted.

"Stephen? We found Faith! She's back." Gregory's voice filled the receiver.

Nothing. Stephen's mind hurried to piece itself together, tried to stop his reeling thoughts. What had he said?

"Hello? Stephen? Did you hear me? She's back!"

"She's back? Who?" Stephen mumbled, forcing himself not to ogle at the computer or the file in his hands. Concentrate!

"Faith! Stephen, are you Ok?"

Stephen's eyes widened. Faith was back! "Yeah, yeah I'm fine. I got to go, thanks for the news. Bye." Without waiting for a reply, he shut the phone closed.

Faith. Boy, did she have some explaining to do. Scooping up the files, Stephen raced from his office. He took the stairs two at a time, racing towards the parking garage, and lunged for his truck. He hit the gas and sped out into the sun.

Vehicles flew by as he raced for Faith's house, all the while having questions smack him in the face. Why? Why was she Faith? Why hadn't she told him? Why had she lied to those police? Why didn't she trust him? Why did she have to be so difficult? Why was she back? Where had she gone? Why had she run away? Why? Why? Why?

Faith's house was suddenly in front of him, shining like a beacon. He slammed on the brakes and slid into her driveway. The ignition was off before he was fully stopped while his door opened and he leapt out. As he stormed to her door, he was suddenly furious. Why did she have to be so difficult?

The files in his hands seemed heavier and thicker than before, full of a burden and a pain too heavy to carry alone, let alone through a childhood. Without warning, he blinked and there was the door. Stephen's left hand went for the doorknob as his right hand went to push the door open. His hand closed around the knob and he tried to turn it. It didn't move. His body, still in momentum, stepped into the door and he almost fell. Almost.

Righting himself, Stephen hit the door furiously and shouted, "Faith open this door right now!"

Nothing.

He tried the knob again. Locked. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head and gave the door a firm, loud knock. "Open up! Police!"

Still nothing. Stephen put his ear up to the door, feeling his anger bubbling. No footsteps, no hurriedly finishing whatever it was she was doing, no requisite call, nothing.

Gently, he placed the files down and allowed himself into the anger that threatened to destroy him. A growl rose in his throat and he turned.

Sitting beside the door was a large flowerpot full of wilted flowers. He didn't need an invitation. The growl rose to a full throated, bloodcurdling scream as his left leg flew towards the pot. He felt a slight, sharp stab of pain as his ankle connected with the pot, but it was quickly replaced with satisfaction and his receding anger. As the clay bits and dirt splattered across the front, the door swung open, revealing a startled Faith, wrapped in a towel; dripping hair draped across her shoulders

Stephen stared at her dumbly for a few seconds, and then he bent, and scooped up the files. Faith's eyes lingered on him a moment longer, then flickered to the file. Fear flashed in her eyes, and then disappeared so fast he was uncertain that it had been there at all. He stepped closer and she stepped back, letting him in.

"We need to talk."

Faith sat on her sofa. The files. He knew. Stephen glared at her from across the coffee table. She looked away; couldn't, wouldn't look at him. How would reliving what her father did to her help this police case? It wouldn't give them evidence, wouldn't place fingerprints and fibers pointing to the suspect. Stephen was looking for answers, explanations she couldn't give. Wouldn't.

"Faith," Stephen's strong voice cut through her and Faith swallowed her tears. She hated herself for being so emotional. It seemed that every time she felt scared, she cried. Every time she felt threatened, or guilty, she cried. Every time she- "Faith." His voice was gentler this time and Faith, so engrossed in her thoughts, looked up. Big mistake.

Stephen's voice had softened, but his glare hadn't. He held her eyes for a moment before slamming the files into the table separating them. Faith flinched, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

"Faith, what is this? What are these?" Stephen demanded. She took a breath, trying to hold back the tears his harsh voice brought. Never had he been this angry. She kept her eyes closed, and rearranged her towel.

"Answer me!" He thundered.

"Files." Faith drew a shaky breath and looked up at Stephen. His face was crimson, his green eyes blazing. Despite the panic spreading through her, she took in those beautiful eyes, and imagined for a moment how they had blazed when he had kissed her. She blinked and his passion filled eyes turned into rage.

"Yes, files. About Isabella Woods, who just so happens to be your twin sister. You deliberately lied straight to my face about her, Faith. I'm trying to help you, but I can't with you running off and lying and being so stubborn."

At the word 'running', Faith closed her eyes and rubbed her left arm, feeling the long cut. Looking at her arm, Stephen narrowed his eyes. "Where were you and what did you do there?" he growled.

Faith remembered Stephen's parents. The hatred she stored inside her welled up and she glared at him. "Where was I? Who do you think you are, my father? Where do you think I was? Out in some bar in the middle of the night? How dare you speak to me that way!" His glare softened as confusion took over. As he opened his mouth, she interrupted, "I was in the forest, behind your house, probably the only place that I'll ever be wanted!" She screamed. "All because of you and your parents. What did I do there? I hated you that night, and still do. I regret our first kiss and I regret meeting you! I wish Bob Tanner had killed me that night! I wish my father killed me fourteen years ago! I hate you!"

She was ranting now, but she didn't care. Ever since that night, she had nursed her hatred and anger until it had finally exploded. Somewhere in there, she had hit a nerve and now Stephen's face was emotionless, except for the hurt jumping out from his eyes. Faith panted, still screaming, "I hate you! You liar! You don't love me, you'll never love me. I hate you and I'll never love you!" Faith jumped up, allowing the tears to fly. Without warning, her left eye became blurry and through her right eye she saw something blue float to the ground. Her scream ended abruptly and she covered her left eye. She followed the blue thing drifting lazily to the ground. Stephen followed her gaze, and sent a quizzical look at her. "Umm, my contact fell out?"

Faith bent to search. Stephen did too. Panic hit her as he held up the contact. "Colored contacts?" Faith nodded as her heart accelerated. "What color are your eyes?" Stephen looked curious. Too curious.

"Blue?" Why did that sound like a question? She cleared her throat.

He quirked an eyebrow. "Is that an answer or a question?" Darn.

Her anger blew back, returning to hit her in the face. "An answer. My eyes are blue and my contacts are blue because…" She paused, searching; mind rapidly firing scenarios. "Because I like that shade better." Smooth.

"Then why are you covering your eye?" Darn him. The anger blew stronger.

"Because I want to!"

Stephen sighed and shook his head. He started to stand up. While doing so, his hand came up and swatted hers from her face. He smiled triumphantly as shock took her. Anger shook her back into place as he exclaimed, "Yes! Your eyes are green, not blue."

"No, they're not! They're blue!" She quickly remembered it was her left eye. "I mean, green, they're green." Faith grabbed her contact back from him. In the blink of an eye, Stephen grabbed her face, holding her still like steel. With his index finger, he reached out and plucked her other contact from her right eye.

Stephen's mouth opened slightly, and his eyes widened. His iron grip on her face loosened and Faith took the opportunity, ripping her head from his hands and shooting a glare into his eyes. "I hate you."

Stephen blinked, then suddenly realizing his fault he opened his mouth wider. "Faith, I-"

"No." She cut him off and shook her head. "Get out of my house right now."

"Faith…I didn't mean it, Faith I-"

"Now!" She screamed as Stephen flinched. He took a step back, stopping mid-step as an eerie sound filled the air. They both listened. Stephen's back tensed as Faith realized the sound.

Sirens.


	28. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

James pulled into Faith's driveway, Ariel following in her car. He shut off the sirens and opened the door, waiting for Ariel to do the same. He hoped, for her own sake, that Faith hadn't told Stephen. If she had, then James would have to teach her a lesson. To listen to people who are smarter than her, to respect the requests of others, and to do things that will benefit herself, instead of insuring harm upon her own faults.

Ariel smiled at him as she got out of her car. He allowed himself the privilege of eyeing the length of her, staring at every curve that blessed her slim figure. He stopped, and looked her in the eye. They started walking towards Faith's house. After knocking, the door opened to reveal Stephen, eyes slightly crazed and regret splashed over his face. "Alex, Ariel." He nodded to both of them and let them in.

"We heard that Faith was back. Thought we'd stop by to see if everything was Ok, or if she'd found anything to help the case." Ariel smiled.

"She's just down the hall, but she's Ok." His eyes showed the opposite. James chuckled and wondered what he`d done this time. Shouted? Questioned? Probably drew tears.

They stepped inside, and once again James admired the furnishings. He settled down on a mahogany loveseat. Stephen and Ariel sat on the couch across from him. "Any new information?"

Stephen grimaced and reached out to the coffee table. Picking up a file, he leafed through the pages. "When Faith was five-years-old, her parents died, and she and her sister were sent to a foster home. Faith was badly beaten, and could barely speak. She did not know her name as Faith, and was essentially nameless until the cops found her birth certificate. I think that there is a connection with the five-year-old Faith, and our Faith now."

"Why do you say that?"

"When Faith's parents died, were killed, she was put up for adoption, and traveled around America in foster homes. Now, fourteen years later, in Casey, she is being harassed and stalked. I can only assume that whoever killed her parents is still caught up with her family and is getting a kick out of Faith."

"How were her parents killed?" Ariel turned to look at Stephen. He opened the file and pulled out a sheet. Summarizing, he glanced at Ariel.

"Well, it hasn't been confirmed, but most of the evidence adds up. Her mother, Mary-Anne, had at least a tablespoon of bleach in her system. She died from poisoning, as well as loss of strength due to limited food and repeated beatings. She was bruised. Her father, Darth, had a knife wound in his chest. Faith claims that her mother had reached back to grab a defense device, and accidently grabbed a knife.

"Some assume that drinking bleach had been a mistake as well, but Isabella, Faith's twin, said that before she ran out to get Faith, Darth had shoved something down Mary-Anne's throat. The bleach came in a prepared pill, so most think that she did it in a frantic suicide. Isabella was only five, and she might've mistaken it for him strangling her. But she insists."

"Where is Isabella now?" Ariel took the paper from Stephen's hand and scanned.

"She is dead. Killed by a foster father."

"No!" She gasped as her head snapped up from the sheet. "Poor Faith… After all this time, she probably was so scared that she never said anything, all this trapped up inside her heart." She stood up and gave the sheet to James. "I'll go check on her."

She disappeared into the hallway behind them. James starred at Stephen, him being preoccupied with reading a sheet from the file. What did Faith see in those large, gawky eyes of his? Sure they were bright green, but weren't blue eyes better anyway? And his hair! Curls just seemed so…feminine.

Stephen looked up and noticed James starring. "What?"

"Just wondering what she sees in you." James hid his smile.

Stephens face turned red. "What do you mean?"

"Oh come on! Everyone sees it." He gestured out around him. "You, staring at her, she at you. You're falling buddy." Stephens face went hard. "Your face is like a window to your soul, man." He blinked. "Not that I blame you. Faith is one hot chick."

Stephen opened his mouth to say something when they heard laughing in the hall. James turned to look around Stephen and saw Faith and Ariel walking into the living room. Faith smiled and her eyes flashed, glinting in the light. James had to restrain himself from gazing the length of her. She wore a casual yet formal black satin dress, hair cascading over her shoulders in a shiny, straight wave. James winked at her, and she blushed.

Ariel sat by Stephen, while Faith sat by James. He smiled and triumphantly shouted on the inside. Score: one for James, zero for Stephen. He looked at Faith, and nearly gasped. Her left eye was green, while her right eye was bright blue. Stephen asked first.

"Why didn't you tell me that you wore contacts? That is a necessity that should've been covered earlier."

"I told Walton during that interview. I also told him about my dead parents and my past. I am surprised that you didn't know." Her voice seemed to mock Stephen, and James once again felt smug. Seems his visit in the woods was paying off. They were turning against each other.

Stephen's eyes opened in surprise, but he kept his mouth shut.

Ariel's voice was slightly somber, but still curious. "Did Isabella have dual-colored eyes as well?"

Faith nodded and smiled weakly. "Her right eye was green though, opposite of mine."

Ariel nodded and leaned forward on her knees, her voice concerned now. "Are you alright Faith?"

"I'm fine." Faith turned to the men. James eyed her carefully. "Was there anything you wanted gentlemen?"

James put his hand on her knee. "I just wanted to make sure that you were Ok. I'm glad that you're safe." He squeezed her knee. She politely nodded and turned to Stephen.

"Have your curiosities been satisfied?" Her voice was curt, and slightly sarcastic.

Stephen seemed to deflate. "Yes." He sulked like a sad puppy.

"You boys can leave now." She smiled at Ariel. Ariel covered her mouth to hide a giggle. James' smugness faded some, but as Stephen stood up and walked out, he sensed an opportunity.

Faith and Ariel stood up to watch them go, and James walked up to Faith. He took one of her hands and smiled warmly. "If you ever need anything, I am always there you know." Faith took her hand back, and James could see Ariel shaking her head at him.

"Seriously Alex, you just can't take no for an answer can you?" Ariel walked up to him and smirked. "I do believe that the lady asked you to leave."

Faith smiled subtly and nodded. James winked at Faith once more before turning and heading to the front door. He thought that he'd seen a slight attraction in her eyes when he'd taken her hand. And she seemed to like his attention, and his winks. She wasn't that hard to push over after all. She'd fall for him.

Who wouldn't?

Ariel smirked as she saw Alex walking out the front door.

That boy was nothing but trouble, she was sure of it. Even though Ariel was only thirty-four, she was too old for him, and yet she was sure that she saw him checking her out every now and then. His eye was on every girl that walked by, and he was never single for long. His tongue was a weapon, and could be used as such. Deadly to the touch, Ariel didn't trust Alex. As pretty and simple as his love seemed to be, it was so cold and impersonal. He kept the girls for their bodies, and when their use ran out, he threw them out like trash.

Ariel glanced at Faith. She intended to keep Faith from becoming one of those girls. "Don't even think about it, girl." Ariel walked over to where Faith was standing.

"What are you talking about?" But Faith's eyes held a knowing glint.

"Alex is not the one for you. I saw the way you were eyeing him, and trust me, you're better off with Stephen."

"Stephen? Oh, please don't tell me you actually think that Stephen is right for me! Didn't you see the way he accused me about my contacts? He is such a control freak!" Faith wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Ariel felt sorry for her. "Oh, Faith I know that sometimes men can be a real pain, but listen to me about this. I left my husband because he didn't seem right for me at the time. When we got married, we were the perfect couple, but over the years, we both changed and stopped needing each other." Ariel remembered those days, and shook her head at Faith. "What I didn't realize was that even though I stopped needing him, I had never truly stopped loving him. When I went back to him, he accepted me with loving arms, and now we are happier than ever. I learned to love him for who he was, not what he could give me."

"But how does that relate to Stephan and I?" Faith interrupted, falling onto the couch and sighing.

"Baby, don't give up on Stephen just yet because you're mad at each other. Everyone has their problems, and if you give him a chance to make things right, he'll come through. I've worked with Stephen for a while, and trust me, he has faults, but his talents are much brighter."

Faith threw her hands up in the air, and Ariel sat across from her. "It'll just be a waste of time! I was helpless, he was there at the time. If any other guy was helping me I'm sure I would've been attracted to him as well. It was just a mistake." Faith looked so sad and confused. Ariel's heart ached for her, and she stood and switched her spot to sit beside Faith. She hugged her sideways.

"Girl, those trees got to your head. What happened last night that made you so doubtful?"

Faith sighed, and turned to face Ariel. Her eyes seemed heavier. They looked strange, being dual-colored. "It didn't happen in the forest, it happened in Stephen's house."

"Stephen said that you had a fight, and ran off."

Faith's eyes widened. "What? That is not what happened at all! Stephen is such a liar." She threw her hands up in shock. "See? I told you Stephen was no good."

"Faith, tell me what really happened."

Faith sighed and shook her head. "I don't know what really happened. I go upstairs after dinner, to give the family some space. His dad just came home, for god sake! But when I come back down the stairs, do I hear the family reuniting? No!" Faith looked down and took a breath. When her eyes came back up, they were blazing. "Tom, Stephen's dad, is insulting me, gossiping behind my back! He's asking Stephen about who I am, and accusing our relationship. His mother is saying that a relationship with me is a bad idea, that I am different and dangerous!"

Faith seemed so mad, and yet Ariel sensed that the reason for her broken heart wasn't in the insults, but in the meaning behind it. Faith's face was red, and her eyes shone intensely. "According to them, I am a good for nothing teenager, who is ruining Stephen's life! And Stephen didn't care to defend me even once! I mean, he hasn't seen his father in nearly fifteen years, and he is listening to this bull crap? It seemed that he was content with leaving his parents hating me. Maybe what his father said had gone through, maybe that was why he didn't defend me.

"I couldn't take it any longer, I had to get out. So I rushed outside, and he followed me." Faith huffed and rolled her eyes. "He feigned innocence, as though he had no idea what I was talking about. The nerve!"

Ariel's heart went out to her, but still felt for Stephen. "Honey, I understand, but try thinking about Stephen. He just found out that his father is back .He probably didn't know what to think, or how to respond, and couldn't help but provide on-the-surface answers. Maybe you missed part of the conversation, and that's why it sounded so bad."

"Ariel! Why are you on Stephen's side? It is obviously his fault." Faith's eyes shone in defiance. "And just now, Stephen was yelling at me because I didn't tell him about my past! It isn't his right to know my scars, and yet he insisted! But Alex was nice, saying that he was glad that I was alright. How can Stephen be better when he is determined to control my life?"

Ariel saw her problem, and honestly didn't know what to do. "Faith, you are young, and right now everything seems impossible." She took Faith's hand and smiled at her warmly. "Stephen may not be the one for you, but trust me, Alex will never be right for you. He is a player and will use you, and then throw you away."

Faith looked thoughtful, but still unsure. "He just doesn't seem like the type."

"Trust me Faith." Ariel pleaded with her. "Please, just trust me."

They were interrupted by a ringing. Ariel realized that she was vibrating, and reached down for her pager. She read the bright blue message.

**Important!**

**New lead on AM.**

**Phone Watson privately ASAP**

Ariel groaned and slid the pager back into her pocket. "Sorry, Faith, but I've got to go. There's a new lead on the AM case."

Faith's eyes brightened slightly, then simmered down. "Tell me any new news soon, Ok?"

"Absolutely. I'm glad that you are Ok. Stay safe." They stood up, and Ariel hugged Faith tight.

"See you soon!" Faith called out to Ariel as she walked out the front door. Opening her cruisers door, she flipped open her phone and quickly dialed up Walton. He answered on the firsts ring.

"Ariel?"

"Yes?" She was earnest to hear the new. "There's a new lead?"

"Yes! Stephen figured it out; he's standing here beside me." He took a breath. "Come to the station immediately!"

"Yes sir." Ariel wanted to shout with joy, but instead did the next best thing. She put her car into gear, and backed out of Faith's driveway.

And drove to the station.


	29. Chapter 28

**CHAPTER 28**

Stephen needed a search warrant.

He had discovered the missing link on his way out Faith's driveway. In his anger, he had punched the dash and hit the music button. Cassey's radio station came on. Wyatt Miles, the radio broadcaster, was talking about worldly news. "Up in Canada, a few logging companies have been busted for the dealings and transportations of various drugs." He chuckled. "Seems pretty easy to me, just shove some powder in a hole in the tree, and send it off."

"But, these are exotic trees, from Brazil and Africa, like bamboo. Wouldn't they need to be checked when they go over the border or something?" It was Samantha, the other broadcaster.

"See, that's just the thing. There has to be a reason for someone to search their property. There is just a usual question, answer, paper filling out deal, and then they are free to enter Canada."

Stephen's mind clicked as it ran through the facts. The ACSI's secretary had lied about a random man. Tanner's body was found nearly behind their business. He remembered the files about Faith, and more facts came into clear view. He had found his hit man group.

Stephen now sat across from Walton in his office, explaining the facts. They had just phoned Ariel and she was on her way, but Walton still seemed doubtful.

"Tell me again what you think?" Walton shook his head and ran a hand down his the side of his face.

Stephen flipped through a couple papers. "In Faith's file, I read up on Darth, her abusive father. I found out how Faith got so rich. He was dealing cocaine to some of the biggest snakes out there. He was getting paid thousands, all of it being put into an account from the C.S.U, short for Cocaine Shipping Unit that was supplying Darth. When he died, the government dug it up and split it between the twins, but when Isabella died, Faith got it all."

"How did the government find the account?" Walton leaned forward over his desk, supporting his chin on clasped hands.

"One of the CSU's dealers came clean, and told the FBI all about it. Shortly after the money was found, our dealer was murdered."

"And this all happened in Cassey?"

"Well, the dealers in the CSU were from all over America, mostly in California. They were set up in San Francisco, until the FBI got involved, and chased them out. Nobodies heard of them since."

"Why was the FBI involved?"

Stephen shuffled some papers. "The CSU was the head of the snake for most drug systems in America. If they destroyed the head, it wouldn't be long until the body and tail followed. Also, Darth's case was one of the biggest abusive father stories to go down in nearly two decades, where the victim ended up alive."

"Ok, but what does this have to do with our Faith now?"

"Well," Stephen spoke from memory, narrowing his eyes as he tried to remember the details. "The FBI were able to trace the CSU across America, until they disappeared back here in California, where their lair had originally been. After that, the trail went cold, and FBI closed the case."

"How did they trace them?"

"Dealings and selling's, as well as following suspects and victims and for a few times, they had someone on the inside."

"Victims?" Walton face seemed worried.

"Oh yeah. The CSU was also a hit man group. Whenever someone messed up, or got in the way, they were gone."

"This still isn't connecting to the Woods case." Walton said. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. "Yes?" Walton called out.

"It's me." Ariel's voice replied.

"Come in." Ariel opened the door, and rushed to sit down beside Stephen on the other side of the table, across from Walton. Stephen gave Ariel a quick run-up of what they'd just discussed before rushing back into his facts.

"Ok, so after California, the trail went cold. But here's the interesting part. About a year later, the American Coast Shipping Industry pops up in Cassey. Now, the manager, Culvis Witson, was suspected to be a large thread in the CSU, but there was no evidence to actually connect him. So, the ACSI shows up in Cassey, conveniently an hour from San Fran, where the CSU was last spotted, and the same spot as Darth's last relative, Faith."

"So, you think that the ASCI are connected to the CSU, and are trying to kill Faith because she is related to their late dealer, Darth?" Ariel wrote a few notes down as she asked the question.

"Yes!" Stephen was elated that he'd figured it out. It added up perfectly. "Tanner was found behind the ASCI, their secretary lied about Tanner. Why would she do that unless she knew him, or was ordered to? What if Tanner was one of them, and he messed up when he didn't kill Faith, so they killed him? And, the ACSI can also stand for American Cocaine Shipping Industry."

"That's ridiculous!" Stephen stopped short at Walton's tone. Ariel looked up from her notes. "Lightridge, how many times have I told you that we can't go on hunches? We need something legit here, something solid. That'll never pass for a search warrant." He huffed and shook his head. "Besides, Faith was only five when her father was killed, she couldn't possibly be a threat big enough to kill for!" He shook his head again and leaned back in his chair. "Do you know how many companies names could be changed to fit 'cocaine' or 'drug', or any other illegal substance? A lot. Stephen, I need you to stop chasing fairy-tales and get me some real proof!"

"This could get him a search warrant." Ariel spoke up and nodded firmly at Walton and Stephen. She looked off her notes. "Withholding information from police, lying to officers, victims found behind faculty." She looked up. "This should allow us to at least look around, or get an interview with the manager and that secretary again."

Walton reluctantly nodded, face red from being wrong.

Stephen leaned forward, energized by Ariel's achievement. "I think that we should go for it. It's our only lead, and without it, we'll have nothing else to fill our time with. I think that all of the officers enjoy searching for justice, rather than sitting around ticketing speeders." Ariel nodded with him.

Walton eyed Stephen nervously. "And what if you're wrong? What if it is all a big hunch that turns out in the dust? Our reputation for a good police station will go down, and our officers might lose hope. Besides, you do have very little evidence."

Stephen licked his lips. "Then put all the responsibility on my shoulders, not under your care. That way, because it was my idea, if it is wrong, it'll be my fault. And if I am right, the glory will go to Cassey's police station, not me. I'll make sure of it."

Walton looked drawn. Ariel's eyes flickered from one face to another. "I think it's a good idea, Walton. It couldn't hurt to check things out, try not to stir up people too much, and just try it. The theory has a ring of truth to it, and like Lightridge said, it's the only lead we've got and the only thing we can do."

Walton finally resigned. "Alright," he growled. "But this investigation is your responsibility. I don't want to bother the other members of the team, but you can use them for back up if anything gets sticky. Just you and Ariel are going to be going to the ACSI with the search warrant, but I want to be present in any questionings that go on in our station. If anything goes wrong, Stephen I'll have no choice to blame you because you are in charge. I hope to God that nothing does happen, and that you are right."

Stephen breathed a sigh of relief, and Ariel smiled. "Thank you sir, you won't regret this." Stephen stood up and shook Walton's hand. Ariel stood as well and she thanked them both.

"Can I tell Faith?" She asked, looking excited.

Stephen's head shook even as he yearned to say yes. "I don't know. I wouldn't until we know something for sure. We don't want to raise her hopes only to break them. I wouldn't tell her anything yet."

Walton cleared his throat, and they turned to look at him. "I can get you your search warrant by tomorrow evening. I want a final report, like I asked at the meeting, by then. You two can busy yourselves with that. Get any last information from Jane Reld, meet up with Craig and Debbie, and hand it in tomorrow. Then you can start this crazy goose chase."

Stephen nodded and grabbed his papers before heading out the door, Ariel in tow. "So, do you really think that this might be something?" Ariel's sweet voice chimed out behind him. He stopped in the kitchen of the police station and turned to look at her.

"Of course I do! All the pieces add up. Tanner was found there, the secretary lied to us! Why would she lie about a seemingly perfect stranger unless she had ties to him? They ship seafood and goods all over California, and that's where the CSU was mainly situated."

Ariel nodded, but her face stayed thoughtful. "Or the real criminals are just setting them up. What if the secretary was paid to say that? And the killers put Tanner's body there on purpose? This could just be a wild goose chase." Her voice was steady, though her eyes looked bothered.

Stephen sighed. "Well, then the secretary will have to come clean. She'll tell us that someone threatened her, or something, and we'll chase down that gooses tail." He turned and started walking, heading towards the front door.

She sighed behind him, but her voice was teasing. "You are just up for an adventure, aren't you?"

"Isn't that the reason why we're here?" He smiled, and looked back over his shoulder. Her grin was large, covering most of her face. She reminded him of his mother, the way she seemed to be constantly looking out for him, and thought of things in a positive light, enjoying life for what it was, not what it would give her unlike many people in this generation. "We all want some sort of adventure, some excitement. And besides, Faith deserves justice after the hell she's been through."

He pushed the front door open and breathed in a deep lungful of the autumn air. A bird chirped and the slight breeze made the leaves dance on the sidewalk. He strode through them, making them waltz and swing, bending over and doing all kinds of fancy flips. They were quite talented. He chuckled to himself as he walked over to his truck. Ariel was right behind him. He realized that they should be working on their report. His stomach growled, and he realized that it was nearly one o'clock, and he hadn't had lunch yet.

He turned to her, and smiled slowly. "I haven't had lunch yet, and well I would enjoy some food before we dig into all those papers…"

Ariel smiled back at him warmly. She touched his arm. "Don't worry about it. I'll go find Jane, and ask her if she has anything left to give me. You can meet me in my office, and we can start from there."

Stephen nodded and Ariel turned and walked back into the station. Stephen smiled at her back, glad at her generosity. He opened his truck door, and slid onto the seat. Before driving off, he allowed himself a moment of peace. _God, you've really blessed me these past few days. This brilliant plan, this answer to my prayers was right in front of my nose. And you showed it to me just in time. _He thought of Faith, of the bitter words they'd shared before he'd stormed off. Regret splashed him in the face. Why did his temper have to be so hot? Why couldn't he have just been compassionate? _Of course she wouldn't have told me, she just met me. Her past is special, and shouldn't be passed on like an old toy! _

_God,_ his eyes lifted heavenward, _help me, help Faith. This has got to be hard for her, living alone without her twin sister, or parents. And my hot anger doesn't help either. Please, give me the serenity to accept the things I can't change, the strength to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. I need you, Jesus. Amen. _

He turned his truck on and rolled out onto the road, aiming for his house. He couldn't change Faith's past, or the things that her Father had done to her, but maybe he could try to make the present better. Yelling at her wasn't going to help anything, especially not their relationship. It wasn't going to earn him trust. He needed to try and change the things that he could, and that meant apologize. It also meant that in the future, he would have to be more conscious of his choices. He remembered his father's words, words that he'd spoken to him after getting in a fight with one of his friends. _"You've got to forgive and forget, but don't forget why you're here. Maybe you aren't meant to be close friends, but you still need to respect who he is, and forgive him. You were both angry, and probably didn't mean half of what was said." _

Forgive and forget. That's what God promised his people, wasn't it? That he would forgive our sins if we ask him, and then he'd forget about them. What he said to Faith wasn't right, and he hoped that she would forgive him. He hoped that they could forget about his screaming, and her running away because of harsh words, and that they could start again.

He chuckled sadly. Easier said than done.

He saw his house up ahead, and remembered his father's cruel words about Faith. Why was he so judgmental? Stephen's stomach tightened and he had to grind his teeth to keep from frowning. He had to forgive and forget.

He pulled into his driveway, and cut the engine short. Leaning his head back, he inhaled deep and exhaled. Forgive and forget.

If only it were that easy.


	30. Chapter 29

**CHAPTER 29**

Faith's head was spinning. What should she do? Accept the invitation? Her head flickered to Stephen, but she pushed his face away. He didn't deserve her attention right now. Her mind was more focused on the slip of paper left on the table in her library. The sheet with an invitation to lunch with someone more important than Stephen at the moment.

She glanced at the writing and felt a shiver go up her spine.

_**Want to talk? **_

_**Meet me at Sam's Subs at 1:30**_

_**Love,**_

_**Alex Eeyam**_

Should she go? She felt her heart tug in the opposite direction, but at the same time, wanted to desperately leave this house. _What about Stephen? _She dismissed the thought. He would never know, and it wasn't like they were actually in a relationship. He certainly didn't act like he wanted her. He had yelled at her, and accused her. And he'd let his father throw insults at her, without even batting his eye.

He wouldn't mind anyway.

He hadn't tried to stop her when she wondered in his forest alone last night. Certainly a lunch with a friend wouldn't hurt. Alex seemed much more willing to be her friend than Stephen had. Their relationship was a mix of yelling and fights, and Stephen begging her for her trust, and asking for her love. But he was a good kisser. Faith smirked. Like she'd know, he was the only boy she'd ever kissed. The only boy she'd let that close to her heart. And now he knew about her father.

Stephen could wait, she decided. It wasn't like Stephen and Alex had both asked her out, just Alex. She looked at the note again, and felt excitement bubble up within her. He must've left it for her after he left. He decided that Faith was hurt, and would need a friend. How thoughtful.

She raced to her bathroom, eager to prepare herself for this date. Sam's sub would be a casual place, so certainly not a dress. Besides, maybe Alex hadn't meant this to be a date; he had just said that 'if you want to talk, meet me at Sam's Subs'. That seemed casual enough. She decided on plain jeans and a t-shirt. She was so glad to have her own wardrobe back, she was eager to wear her favorite clothes again. This one was tight fitting, but not too low and simple.

She brushed her hair and dabbed on some make-up, and with her trademark white, wide bracelets and matching earrings, she was ready to go. One of the fun things with being rich was not only the wide variety of a wardrobe and accessories, but the toys that came with it. She had a bright orange, custom made Audi r8 convertible as well as a small truck. She chose the Audi, pulling out of the drive and heading into town.

Ariel's warning flashed in her head. _"Alex is not the one for you…trust me, please just trust me." _Faith shook her head to free it from the strangling cobwebs. What did Ariel know? She was nearly old enough to be her mother, and here she was thinking that she knew who was right for Faith and who wasn't. Alex was sweet and nice, sure a little coy at times, but honest all the same. He was probably just smitten with her, or something.

Faith glanced at herself in her rearview mirror and smiled wryly. Yes, of course. That boy was smitten with someone as plain as her. She shook her head. Isabella had always been prettier, with her cute freckles and rounded nose. Faith had never viewed herself as beautiful, pretty at times sure, but never drop-dead gorgeous the way that Bella had been. She sighed and pushed her past away.

Now was not the time for reminisces.

Sam's Subs sign loomed a few hundred feet in front of her. Her heart quickened, and she tried to slow it. _He's just being friendly. Anyone would do the same. _She pulled into the parking lot and made sure that there was nothing valuable left in the Audi. Then, with a quick look in the mirror, she walked into the diner.

She scanned the restaurant for a familiar face and spotted him in the back corner, glancing at a menu. She remembered that Stephen used to do that often too, and when Faith asked him why, his answer was simple. _"It's just habit. Police like to see their surroundings, they hate having a blind spot behind them." _

Remembering Stephen sent a thorn into her heart, and she swallowed and attempted a smile as she walked up to Alex's table. "Hi."

He looked up, and smiled warmly. "Faith! I'm so glad that you could come. You just seemed so sad, it was the least I could do to invite you to lunch." He patted the spot beside him. "Come sit."

Faith sat beside him, and instantly knew that this was a good idea. She needed this, this breath of fresh air, flash back to reality. She had spent too much time in the past, it was time to enter the present and accept the future.

Alex let her see the menu and she scanned over the choices, though her heart was more in the mood for talking, not eating. She decided on a salad over some small talk. After the waitress took their order, Alex turned to her.

"I know that you've had a hard night, and that you might not want to talk, but I am here if you ever need to expel some words." He smiled.

Faith felt her heart soften. "Thanks, Alex. I really appreciate it." This was just what she needed, a friend who wouldn't push her for details, like Stephen, but was willing to let her talk in her own time. He reminded her of the many kindred spirits who had helped her over the years in every orphanage and foster home. She remembered Stephanie, a nun who had been her best friend when she was nine. She would play with her and read her books and taught her all about astronomy, because at that time, she loved the stars. Even though Stephanie was in her late thirties, she seemed to honestly want to care for her, and be her friend. Faith had imagined that this was what a mother would be like.

A memory came back to her. They were sitting under the stars one night, when Faith had grabbed Stephanie's hand and pointed to the sky. "Look! There's Ursa Major, the one you showed me last night." Faith tilted her head in a childish way and giggled. "It looks like a spoon!"

Stephanie had smiled warmly. "Most people call it the Big Dipper, but its real astronomic name is Ursa Major."

Faith shook her head, a silly smile playing on her lips. "I still think that it looks like a spoon, not a dipper."

Stephanie laughed and reached over, tickling Faith between the ribs. Faith giggled and swatted away her hand, grinning ear-to-ear. She snuggled closer to Faith and whispered, "Maybe it's God's spoon. Whenever he's thirsty, he just picks it from the sky and dips it into the ocean for a big drink."

The memory vanished as Alex nudged her arm. Faith looked over to see him quirking an eyebrow. "You Ok? You zoned out."

Faith smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking."

"About what?"

She tilted her head and smiled at Alex. "Life, how crazy it is."

He nodded and took a breath. "Oh yes, life is quite a conundrum. It can twist you 'round and shake you hard. As long as you are holding on though, you'll be alright."

Faith stared at him, and noticed that the sparkle that usually shone in Stephen's eyes was absent from Alex's. "Do you believe in God, Alex?"

He shrugged, and gestured around. "Sure, I think that there has to be someone who made all this, but I'm not a Christian or anything. I think that whoever made this, left after his work was done. He doesn't seem to be around anymore, he's just so," he paused. "Far away."

Faith was speechless. That's exactly how she felt! "Like, how could a God who is so loving and kind let all the evil in our world exist? It just seems a bit unloving to let us be surrounded in pain and still let us believe that there is hope."

He brightened. "Exactly! He just doesn't seem to care."

Faith nodded. Finally, someone who understood. All of those monks and nuns over the years kept trying to push God's love onto her, including Stephen. They just couldn't see that her heart was too broken to fix, not even by a 'loving' God.

The waitress arrived with their food, and Faith dug in. The lettuce was crunchy, and felt crisp on her tongue. She noticed Alex watching her while she ate. "What?"

"Nothing." His smile was teasing.

Faith smiled back at him, enjoying the moment. Alex was so fun and light, unlike Stephen who seemed to be heavy and serious most of the time. Stephen was so obsessed with the AM case, whereas Alex seemed to be carefree, not too worried and at ease with life. Faith eyed Alex carefully and pushed him playfully on the shoulder. "So what's your story? Have you always lived in Cassey?"

Alex shook his head and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "I lived in San Hosea for awhile, my mom grew up here. Then we heard that her Dad was dying. He was the only family she had left, so when I was seventeen we spent our summer here." He smiled and shrugged. "I really liked it, the small-town feel. Everyone welcomed us so kindly, as if they all were our old time friends. There was no hostility, just open arms. It seemed so...perfect." He took a bite from his sandwich.

Faith took a final bite of her salad and pushed the plate away. She twisted the straw in her ice water. "So you moved out here?"

Alex nodded. "I thought maybe I'd find myself; discover who I'm supposed to be." The waitress walked up, unaware of their deep conversation.

"How's everything tasting?" Her smile was genuine, rich. It was one of the things that Faith loved about Cassey, and was why she lived in a small town rather than San Francisco, even though that was where she worked.

"Great." Alex's smile was also warm. "Can we get the check?"

"Oh absolutely. I'll just be a moment."She nodded at Faith.

`No problem," Alex winked at Faith. "Take your time."

The waitress grabbed their plates and walked away, a grin spreading from each ear, while Faith was trying to hide her blush. Faith wondered why she was so happy. Glancing at Alex, she noticed his strong jaw. She had once had a friend who was obsessed with boys' jaws. Her name was Amy.

"Oh my god!" Amy would squeal, running up to Faith and cornering her against her locker. "Justin was chewing gum today and you would not believe his perfect jaw-bone!" She would sigh and fan herself, batting her lashes dramatically. "He was so hot."

Faith smiled as she looked at Alex. Amy would freak.

A bubbly voice interrupted her thoughts, and she looked up to see their waitress walking up with their check. "Here you go! I hope you have a wonderful day."

Faith admired the waitress's long blonde hair. "What makes you so happy today?"

The girl's eyes widened. "Today?" She looked out the window, and smiled. "The sun's shining, the sky is blue and God loves me! Why would I be sad?" She shrugged.

The girl's simple statement pierced her heart with a thick needle. It seemed like something that Isabella would say; her faith was so simple and pure. Faith smiled, but it was half-hearted. "What's your name?"

"Bella. Bella May" Her chin lifted as she waited for Alex to sign the check.

Faith's smile disappeared. Bella frowned, concern wrinkling her forehead. "Is there something wrong?"

"No, nothing." What was going on? The waitresses name was Bella, and she had a relationship with God? How coincidental was that? She shook away her doubts, and tried to smile back at Alex. His face was furrowed in concern as he handed Bella the check. She realized something else.

"Is your last name May?" Faith asked after the waitress. Bella turned around, puzzled.

"No," her young voice answered. "It's part of my first name. Why?"

Faith smiled, but was sure that it didn't reach her eyes. "Well, it's my middle name." She shrugged. "Thank you. Have a nice day."

The waitress turned around, and walked off. Alex eyed her nervously, and touched her arm. "Are you ok? You look a little pale."

Faith shook her head, and interlocked her fingers. "Can we go?"

Nodding, he slid from the booth. "Want to take a walk? It's really nice out." He smiled and took her hand as she stood up after him. His fingers wove between hers, and she felt her heart speed up.

"Ok." She smiled, and hoped that her face meant it. They walked from Sam's Subs and onto the grass lining the road. A few seagulls flew overhead, and Faith lifted her chin, face basking in the warm sun. They sidestepped a tree, and Alex squeezed her hand.

"So, why did the name Bella May set you off?" His tone was gentle, as though he was scared that one wrong word might shatter her.

Faith sighed and looked up into Alex's deep brown eyes. They were so kind and inviting, and Faith wanted to suddenly just spill her heart out. She rejected the thought. She hadn't told Stephen, and she was just meeting Alex. Besides, he couldn't know, or he would just walk away, out of her life. "My twin sister's name was Isabella. People called her Bella all the time." She paused, searching the clouds for words. "She died when we were ten." Alex squeezed her hand again, and twisted her wrist so she turned into him.

He let go of her hand and hugged her tight. "I'm sorry Faith." That was all that needed to be said. She tried to think of what Stephen's reaction had been to her telling him. Silence? She couldn't remember.

Alex's arms were strong around her back, and she relished in the feeling. Her heart beat a strange erratic tune, and her forehead felt hot. What was this? She recognized the feeling from her relations with Stephen, but it seemed different. Faster maybe, or stronger. She slowly pulled from Alex's embrace, and entwined her fingers into his. "Thanks."

They kept walking, and a car passed by. They entered a neighbourhood, a few houses with large yards dotting the otherwise barren landscape. Soon, they turned around, heading back to their cars. The sun seemed lower, and Faith pulled out her phone, and checked the time. 3:07. She noticed that she had a missed call from her manager up in San Fran. She made a mental note to call her back as soon as Alex let her go.

The only cloud in the sky was a thin one stretched into the shape of a fat rabbit. The sun was high and hot, and Faith hoped that her hands weren't sweaty. They walked close, shoulders almost touching and feet in sync. A slight breeze danced in Faith's hair and ruffled her clothes. They saw Sam's Subs sign up ahead, and Alex stopped walking and turned to Faith. His brown eyes seemed deep, like a pool of water not yet ruined by anyone else. Faith wanted to jump in.

"Thanks for coming." He stepped closer and let go of her hand. It came up and traced her cheek. The air electrified, and Faith took a sharp breath. Stephen's face bounced in her head, but she pushed it away with anger. His face just grew bigger. His sea-green eyes seemed to pierce through her. _I care about you..._His throaty accent made him seem irresistible.

Faith blinked, and saw that Alex had stepped closer. She noticed that he was shorter than Stephen. Suddenly, all she wanted was to kiss him. Maybe that would make Stephen go away, to mind his own business. So she was with another guy, so what? He had proven his opinion of her last night, when he did nothing to stop his father's ranting. Faith reached up, and Alex leaned down, and their lips came together. Her hands came up, and clasped around his neck. She pulled his head closer to hers, kissing him strongly. He held her waist tight, protectively. She felt safe, felt good. Stephen's voice seemed a million miles away.

Faith realized that she was wrong as she loosened her grip on Alex's neck and their lips came apart. Alex was a way better kisser than Stephen. Alex's eyes were alive, blazing with passion. His hair was slightly ruffled from her hands, and stood up in the sides.

He looked good.

Faith once again stepped from his hands, and they kept walking. This time, they walked closer, and Faith put her arm around his waist, his strong abs. He did the same, holding her tight. They walked into the parking lot of the restaurant and stopped at her car. She turned into him and hugged him. "Thanks." She murmured. "That was exactly what I needed."

She leaned her head back, and it looked like Alex wanted to kiss her again. Instead, he smiled. "Whenever you need to talk, I'm here." Faith felt her heart prick, torn by something. Wasn't that what Stephen had said? That he loved her, and wanted to be her friend, that he cared about her past and would never leave her? Faith blinked, smiled at Alex, and stepped towards her car.

"Wait," Faith turned around to see Alex's big brown eyes up close to hers, and he grabbed her again and pressed his mouth to hers. His hands tightened around her waist, and Faith felt passionate desire rip through her. She raked her hands up through his hair and kissed him back. He kissed her a while longer, before reason slapped her. She pushed him back with her palms, breathless.

"Alex, I should go." His hair stuck up where her hands had been, and his arms were still tight on her back.

"I'm sorry," he looked deep into her eyes. Embarrassed, Faith looked away and smiled shyly. "You are just so beautiful."

Faith shook her head slightly and stepped back. His hands lingered, and then reluctantly let her go. "Thanks again." She smiled and stepped back, placing her hand on the handle of her car's door.

"No problem," he gave her a once-over, and winked. "We should do this again sometime."

Faith blushed, and nodded. "Yeah, sure." She pulled on the door's handle, and realized that it was locked. Blushing even harder, she smiled lamely at Alex and reached for the keys in her pocket. She fumbled with the fobey, nearly dropping her chain, before pressing the unlock button and hearing a satisfactory click. Faith opened her door and slid onto the leather seats. She waved at Alex as he stepped away from her Audi and she pulled out of the parking lot.

She realized that she hadn't breathed since he kissed her.

She grabbed a breath.

Staring at the road ahead of her, she blinked without seeing. She drove, mindlessly turning the wheel and pressing on the gas pedal. Her mind was a medley of confused images and feelings, strange sensations and whispered thoughts. Alex's face came to mind, and she instantly felt regret stab her. She shouldn't have kissed him, shouldn't have allowed him into her space, into her life.

What would Stephen think?

Forget Stephen. Faith shook her head, and decided that there was only one place to sort out these feelings of hers; the Broken Tree. She turned left at a stop light, and wound her way to the eastern edge of town. She pushed her heart to the fields of her mind and focused on the road. Trees passed, and soon the spacious acreages gave way to a lush field of multiple dispersed poplar and birch. In the center of the field was a large building. Faith followed the dirt road around trees until she could see the structure in all of its beauty.

There, in the fringes of society, lay a tiny abbey built of Ashlar and mortar, square-cut stones and a mixture of lime, sand and water. It was nearly fifty years old, and fashioned to look like a small castle. It had seventy-five rooms, a kitchen, a chapel, and various storage rooms. A wood-and-rock fence encircled it, giving it a kilometre radius on the interior.

It was also where Faith had lived for eight years, the most at a given time. She gazed up at the old walls crawling with ivy. So many memories pushed at her, urging to be reminisced and held in her head. She allowed a few to pass by.

Father Figaro, calling all the orphans to attention inside the chapel, standing at the front at a podium. He would shout out above the chattering children, telling them that they were sinning in the face of God by continuing to talk about worldly things in a holy chapel of God. He would pray, and give a lecture about God's love and grace, and how if we devoted our lives to God, the way he and the seven other monks had, we would live eternally in heaven.

Faith and the other children secretly loathed them, because of the oaths that bound them to their holy positions. Her friends would make faces and giggle during Figaro's sermon, receiving stern glares from the Father and sometimes being shamed before the entire congregation of orphans. They didn't care of course, they would rather be laughed with then have to listen to Father Figaro's graveling voice.

Faith shook her head and smiled slightly as she opened her Audi's door. She locked it and looked around the small parking lot. Not a soul in sight, nor a vehicle.

William Abbey, named after the founding monk David William, had been closed down several years after Faith was moved to a new orphanage. It had been an orphanage, a place that occupied fifty-seven orphans and seven monks, as well as various maids and cooks. It had had insufficient funds and a 'hostile and unclean environment for the fragile youth', and was thus closed down. The orphans were sent to various other orphanages and the monks disappeared. On Sundays, the abbey hosted a tour for any locals or tourists so they could see the way that most castles in Europe were made and viewed by the public. It was also sometimes used for private meetings, dining halls, parties or special events and could be rented through Cassey's mayor or secretary.

But today, no one was near or interested in a small girl returning to her elder home.

Faith took a step towards the large wooden doors, and tried to block a few more memories. This was where Stephanie, her nurse and dearest friend, had lain beside her under the stars. At night, Stephanie would sing to her, beautiful hymns about golden streets and people who would love her and hold onto her forever. They had been powerful, and hope filling songs, and yet now, Faith only smiled sadly at the thought.

A loving family? Streets of gold? There was no such thing, no way or reason why Faith should believe in such awesome fairytales. She took another step and her smile slipped away. These doors had locked the children in whenever one of them was 'bad', which was often. Only when they snuck out, or when one of the maids let them play, were they allowed out of its intimidating structure. A few orphans had found ways to sneak past the cooks, out of the kitchen, or through the lower windows and cellar doors. They often played in the trees just east of the structure, outside the fence.

Faith walked around the front of the castle to the side. She set off through the few trees dotting the land, past the garden and the woodshed, to the forest just outside of the fence. She looked back at the abbey, and gave it a farewell wave as she had done so often in her youth, and slipped between the fence boards to the other side. She remembered how Jonathan and Alex would race here, over the fences and to the Broken Tree, seeing who could do their chores the fastest and arrive unseen by the monks first, after supper. Most of the children would join them afterwards and play games. They would create worlds where they could be anything that they wanted, anything that their minds allowed. They would envision wonderful places full of families and love, an entirely different atmosphere than that of the Abbey.

Faith smiled and walked the short distance across fallen logs and mossy paths to the Broken Tree. Her smile widened as the large tree came into view. It had been an enormous pine that, after being infested with carpenter ants, had fallen to the ground. The inside of the tree was filled with intricate designs left behind by the ants, and was fascinating. As a child, Faith had crawled along all the branches that stuck out of the trunk.

She stepped up to the tree and ran a hand along its bare skin. Long ago, the orphans had peeled off the bark to reveal the wonderful treasures that webbed the inside. The sides were worn from the many feet that had clambered up its sides, and it was smooth to the touch.

The legend sounded in Faith's head.

She smiled softly and let her hand fall to her side as she looked up at the branches that stuck up into the sky. Brandy and Sam had said that the tree had to have fallen for a reason. They decided that the tree had fallen in order to give the kids something to give them hope. If you came to the Broken Tree and cried out to it, it would hear you, they had said. It would connect to its many tree friends and ask them to help you. Somehow, your wishes would be fulfilled, if it was what you really needed.

Faith started walking alongside the tree.

There were rules, of course. You couldn't ask for more than one thing in one day. Your request had to be something that you _needed_, not what you _wanted_. And, your wish had to benefit more than just yourself. So, you couldn't ask for a new bicycle, or for a smile from that cute girl. But you could ask for new bikes for everyone, or for that cute girl to like you back so you could both be happy.

Faith put her hand up against the trunk, remembering the many times that she had cried out for help to the Broken Tree, wishing for something that had never happened. She wished for a family for Isabella and herself, for someone to love her. She'd wanted so badly for her scars to be gone, but she never asked for it, because she would be the only one who would benefit. And, of course, her lifelong dream, that her mother was alive, that she hadn't been killed by Darth, that they were living in a home together, laughing and playing and loving the way that families were supposed to love.

Faith shook her head sadly.

A memory flashed in her head, and she started walking again. Her first kiss. Faith smiled and lifted her head, searching. Then she saw it. At one part of the trunk, a few branches had bent and lifted to create a roof-like structure over part of the tree. The edges of the trunk, in this part, were so smooth and worn that you could hardly see the carpenter ants productions. Faith bent her head and stepped into the tiny alcove, leaning her back up against the tree. She remembered how, when she was eight, and just experimenting with love, she and Cole had snuck out, hand tucked in hand, and ran to the Broken Tree. They had sheltered here from the harsh winds, hugging each other.

The he'd kissed her.

He looked deep into her eyes with a cute, boyish admiration. Leaning over, he'd pecked her quickly on the mouth before leaning back and blushing. Faith had blushed and giggled. They'd walked back slowly to the Abbey, holding hands and talking. They had been caught, of course, and were banished from one another. As punishment, Faith had to sit in the cellar for three days, to signify her sin, and the way that Jesus had taken it away when he was buried for 3 days. Cole had to do the same.

Faith looked up into the patches of blue peeking through the tangled web of branches above her. She smiled and closed her eyes, letting the sun warm her skin. If only it would warm her heart. Alex's face flashed in her head, and she remembered the reason why she'd come. Faith opened her eyes, her smiled dropping from her face.

If only Tanner hadn't tried to kill her that night, none of this would have happened. She wouldn't have met Stephen or Alex, and her heart wouldn't be barbed and torn. Never had two men fallen for her, it was very rare that one had at all. In high school, she hadn't had a boyfriend. In fact, her very first date had been when she was eighteen. Now, at age nineteen, it seemed that she had finally bloomed, that her 'beauty' was becoming known. Twice two men had checked her out in Cassey, and in San Francisco she'd turned down three offers to lunch.

She shook her head, and stepped out of the covered alcove of branches. Walking with her head turned to the sky she swallowed and shrugged her shoulders.

The sky was so blue. It reminded her of the pureness of Stephen's eyes, even though his were green. A nice, sea-green haze that could swallow her up. Faith shook her head, remembering all the times that she had gotten lost in his eyes, and then found herself in his embrace. Why had she fallen so quickly? How had his temper just fuelled her desire for him, her attraction? Couldn't she see how dishonest his love was? Why hadn't she seen the signs?

Faith could nearly count them on her fingers. Stephen suggesting that she stay with him while she needed to be protected; the way he held her during her nightmare; the fights that they'd had, and the way that he continued to repeat how he would always love her, and that he'd be there for her no matter what, almost as if he was trying to convince himself as well as her, as if he'd been rejected before; how he'd apologized with a kiss and a date, making her forget everything that had been said and done.

He'd had experience, he'd done this before.

First, he was shy and seemingly subtle. Trying to be nice, trying to be friends. Then, suddenly, he'd jumped in when she was most vulnerable, during a nightmare, and then she'd been caught and reeled in. Aggressively kissing her before his parents came had been the finale, him showing her how much he really did love her. What a show. She was cut, stripped of her dignity when his father entered the room. He'd seemed consumed with respecting his father, that he'd 'forgotten' his promises of protection for her.

She realized that she had reached the end of the Broken Tree. She walked around the end of the trunk, coming to the large mound of roots and dirt that made up the bottom of the trees foundation. She gazed at the webbed and tangled roots, the clumps of dirt hanging, and the holes where animals had settled. It was nearly 6 feet tall, a strong wall of tree, entirely wood and dirt. She put a hand up and traced its scars.

So much like her own heart.

Tangled and worn, with many holes where creatures had tried to settle in and burrow into the center of her being. Dirty and nearly unrecognizable as roots, as it looked like disaster. That's what she really was, on the inside. A disaster. A stupid, scarred little girl who couldn't find a place in the huge world.

Faith sat down at the base of the mound and looked up at the sky. A few clouds had meandered into the blue setting, ghosting across the picture. It scattered the perfectness and make the blue look distant, and patchy. Around the clouds, the blue was light, whereas it grew darker the farther it spread from the drifting white. Faith frowned, feeling that the pureness of the sky was forever ruined.

Alex.

He had been that cloud, that drifting white that had de-patched the relationship with Stephen and her. He had planted those first seeds of doubt into her mind when they were in her house, and they had spread. Now, when she was in the most pain, when she was vulnerable, he was doing the same thing that Stephen had done. Tended to her needs, aggressively pushing his heart into her mind and gaining her trust.

He was playing her like a puppet on a string.

Kissing her on the first date? Asking her out right after she'd been 'dumped'? Alex was putting himself in control of the situation, similar to Stephen. Except, he was doing it faster, vigorously trying to dig into her heart and permanently settle as a burr, unwilling to detach.

So why didn't she mind?

Why didn't she try and distance herself from Alex, and just run from his love entirely?

Faith ran a hand through her hair and bit her lip. Indecision tore at her. On one hand, she could be wrong. She could be misreading his attempts at comforting the wrong way. Maybe he was just trying to help her, just trying to get her mind off Stephen. Maybe he honestly liked her, and was trying to gain the upper hand against Stephen, because he knew how talented Stephen was at playing these games.

Faith leaned her head back and pursed her lips. Slowly, she exhaled and tried to pry out some sense in her argument.

Alex was a better kisser. _This means he has had practice, _her mind argued.

Alex was cuter. _Stephen couldn't help that!_

Stephen had prettier eyes. _All the more reason to keep him, rather than that scum Alex. _

Alex didn't have a temper. _Stephen's temper was what made him attractive. _

Why was her head arguing to keep Stephen? After all he'd done for her, taking advantage of her information and lips, and then throwing her into the woods. Alex seemed kinder, sweeter, and cuter. He had charm and sincerity, which made him more attractive.

Faith pushed all thoughts of Stephen out of her head. She stood up and started walking back along memory lane, letting her hand drag along the trunk of the Broken Tree as she stepped thoughtlessly on the well trodden trail. Suddenly, she remembered the legend. The thought made her stop. Faith gazed up at the sky, nearly hidden under the black net of swaying branches, and felt a desire to make a wish. She blinked, and decided to ask the Tree for a gift. _What could it hurt?_

"I wish," Her voice cracked, and Faith cleared her throat and swallowed before continuing. "I wish that for once in my life, I would be given someone who will love me, and stay by my side and never leave. Someone who's love was undying, who would protect and keep me safe." Faith smiled.

She started walking again, feeling silly. Asking a tree for help? What could a tree possibly do for her? When she was a child it provided a haven for the orphans, a place to go when all else failed. The legend seemed to be a beacon of hope, something that would give them a reason to go on. But she was older now, old enough to realize how naive it was to wish for love, when love wasn't true.

She found her way across the field, up alongside the house and back in her car. She was driving down the dusty road before blinking and bringing herself back to the present. She looked up at the sky, a deep blue uninterrupted by any clouds. She would give things a try with Alex. She would try and be nice to Stephen. Faith winced. And break the news gently to Ariel.

Oddly, the peace that she expected to feel from settling her thoughts was vacant from her heart. Instead lay a terribly forbidding shadow of doubt and unease, and something unrecognizable. She pulled into her driveway and walked into her house, trying to place the feeling, but failing miserably. She phoned Ariel and invited her for dinner. As she prepared their meal, she reached out and tried to catch the flailing ends of her strange feeling.

As she went to answer the doorbell, it finally dawned on her what the feeling was.

It was guilt seeping into the open wounds of her broken heart.


	31. Chapter 30

**CHAPTER 30**

Marie Sullivan stepped into the interrogation room, Ariel on her heels. Stephen and Walton sat behind a table, with a recorder and microphone set up on its steel frame. Ariel pulled up a chair on the opposite side of Stephen. Marie looked nervous as she sat down on the other side of the table, facing the microphone.

"Good morning Marie." Stephen nodded at her, his face vacant of a smile. He pressed the 'on' button in the recording device. "Please state your name and occupation for the record." He had decided to play the 'good cop'. Walton would just watch while Ariel took notes and added facts and queries.

"Marie Sullivan. Secretary at the American Coast Shipping Industry." She leaned forward to the mike, her eyes darting back and forth from the three of them. Ariel scribbled something on her notepad.

"Thank you Marie. How has your day been?" Stephen smiled. Marie looked even more confused.

"Why am I here?" She asked, eyes darting again.

"Please, no questions."Stephen shuffled a few papers in front of him and pointed at the camcorder mounted on the wall behind him. The green light was flashing. "We just need to ask you a few questions. As you can see, you are being videoed and recorded. Answer the questions directly and honestly, and we'll be out of your hair soon enough."

Marie nodded and looked at Ariel. She opened her mouth to say something, but Stephen interrupted her. "Do you recognize the officer beside me?"

"Yes." Marie tapped a manicured nail on the table nervously. It rang with a shrill edge, bouncing loudly in the large, silent room. She stopped tapping.

"Good." Stephen leaned forward and stared into Marie's eyes coldly. "So then you must remember the brief questions that you lied about." Stephen spit out 'lied' as if it was poisonous.

Marie's eyes hardened and she no longer looked confused. "Excuse me?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." He took a breath and shook his head, still drilling her with his eyes. She returned the intense stare. "On September twenty-third, officers Ariel Graketon and Alex Eeyam came in and asked you a few questions about Bob Tanner. You lied to them. That same day our officers found Bob Tanners corpse a few kilometres behind the ACSI, the opposite direction of where you pointed them."

"I did not lie to your officers." Marie's voice was sharp; she bit out every word.

"Could you please re-tell your story of your relations with Bob Tanner?" Ariel cut in.

"That morning, he came in and asked directions to the nearest gas station. I pointed him to the Shell just down the road." Now Marie sounded annoyed. Her eyes had lost their sharp edge and looked bored. "He left and drove away."

"How did you describe Tanner to me?" Ariel asked, scribbled notes.

"Why, you can't remember? That's rather unprofessional, wouldn't you say?"

"We need to verify that you were lying to us." Stephen said.

"I didn't lie." She glared.

"Marie," Ariel looked up from her notes. "Don't make this difficult. How did you describe Tanner to me?"

She sighed and inspected a fingernail. "Ragged looking, blue eyes, about six feet tall. He drove a red sports car. Not bad looking, slightly handsome. He had some stubble on his chin." She paused, thinking.

"Drunk?" Stephen added.

"No, he was driving." Marie argued.

"Alright." Stephen flipped through his notes to a select one. He pulled it to the top of the small pile and pointed at the page. "Now, here's where the lies come through. You said he drove a red sports car, but how could you know that unless you had met him prior to that day. There are no windows in the building.

"We have evidence that he was indeed drunk-"

"From what?" Marie interrupted. Her eyes were wide and frantic. _Gotcha. _

"His footprints, witnesses and his stomach." Stephen shot.

"Well then he must've gotten drunk after he saw me because he was sober."Marie shot back. "And it was a hot day, so I propped the door open. I saw his car when he drove up."

"We have footprints that match the boots that he was wearing that show that he walked from the pub to your building, drunkenly. The receding footprints are sober, and lead into the forest behind your building, where his dead body was. And the door wasn't open when we came in." Ariel said.

"I shut the door after he left. I didn't lie; he drove up to the ACSI."

"There is a pub next door to the ACSI, am I correct?" Stephen asked.

"Yes."

"Tanner's car was in that parking lot. How could you have seen his car if he wasn't driving in it?"

"Maybe after he saw me he drove to the pub, got drunk, and wandered off into the forest to die."

"He was murdered. A slit throat." Ariel said. "And his footprints say that he walked there, and you are lying."

"Maybe after he got drunk, he walked up to the door and left! How am I supposed to know? I've only met him once!" Her eyes were panicked now.

"Or have you?" Ariel asked. Marie turned to Ariel, opened her mouth to say something, then shut it. She shook her head and looked down.

"Have you heard of the nineteen year old girl who lives near here-?"

"The girl who got shot in her house? Who hasn't? It's the only news in the town." Marie cut him off.

"Bob Tanner is the one who shot her." Stephen pushed his papers to the side and leaned over the table. Marie leaned back. "So you know what I think, Marie? I think that Tanner was sent to kill her. I think that he failed, so he was killed, and I think that you knew that. I think that your boss has some beef with the girl's relatives, so he sent Tanner to deal with her to send a message. But Tanner failed.

"So your boss sent a man to get Tanner from the pub. A white man, average height and build with dark hair. And he took Tanner and killed him and dropped his body behind shop. And I think that your life in on the line if you tell anyone. So you lie. And I think that if you tell the truth, you will be ok, and safe from your boss and his men."

"You are wrong." Somewhere in there, Stephen had hit some truth, because Marie's face was emotionless. "Besides, even if it was true, you'd never be able to prove it." She looked at the other faces. "Now, if you are all out of assumptions, can I go?"

Ariel glanced at Stephen. He nodded. "Yes, but don't leave the area in case we need some more information."

"I have to go to the City tomorrow for a business meeting. Is that all right?" She was slightly sarcastic.

"San Francisco?" Marie nodded. "Yes, that's fine." Ariel said. Marie stood and started for the door.

"Ariel, could you escort Ms. Sullivan to the lobby?" Stephen asked.

Ariel nodded and followed Marie out the door. Stephen let his breath out in a loud exhale and gathered his notes.

"She's hiding something." Walton said his first words since the interrogation began.

"Aren't they all?" Stephen shook his head and stood. "Do you think we have something?"

"I think you have a spark. I think we need to question her boss. Who is he?"

"Culvis Witson." Stephen spoke from memory. He pushed the 'stop' button on the recorder and ejected the tape. "I'll set up an interview with him tomorrow. I'll watch these tapes, see if we missed something."

"Give me any new info." Culvis stood and walked out the door.

Stephen settled down at his desk a few minutes later with a sandwich and both the tapes. He popped the video into a TV set up in the office and leaned back, unwrapping his sandwich. He took a bite and watched himself take a seat on the screen. He was soon joined by Gregory. Ariel and Marie came last. Marie looked nervous, and slightly scared, Stephen noted on a pad of paper. He watched all the dialogue, tried to guess if Marie was lying or not by her body language and her tones. At the end of the show, he was convinced that she was hiding something.

He closed his eyes as the recorded tape began playing in his ears through some earphones. He listened at the tones and the words, trying to find any clues or leads. At the end, he received the same conclusion. She was lying. But he needed proof. He listened to the tape once more, before throwing out his half-eaten sandwich.

Stephen was stuck on his theory. He made an appointment with Culvis Witson the next day and asked Ariel to tag along. He would carry a recorder in his pocket. Gathering his notes, he wrote out multiple questions and subjects to ask him about. His line of work, his recent activities, his relations with Darth Woods, or anyone in the Woods heritage. Motive. Stephen needed a reason why he would kill Faith, or attempt to, and how he could. Maybe on the way in, he'd interview a few employees. Hint at drugs. Hopefully someone would crack.

Starting up his computer, he accessed the file with pictures from the scene. Every picture and photographed piece of evidence was filed on the police's main database, so every officer could access them. He pulled up pictures of the drunken footprints, the disturbed bushes leading the way to Tanner's body, the body. He zoomed up on the edges of pictures and of certain fuzzy bits that were suspicious. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. _Yeah, because everything is ordinary about a dead body in a pile of grass..._

Stephen froze. Using his mouse, he clicked back to the beginning of the file, and quickly scanned all the pictures. Just as he thought; no grass. Grabbing a crime scene kit and a camera, he drove to the ACSI and parked in the pub`s lot. His heart beat in anticipation. Why wouldn`t Alex take a picture of the grass around the body? All that was in the file was the grass on the way to the body, then just the body. You were supposed to take a picture of the body at all angles, not just the slit throat, or the torso or just the legs. Why would Alex do that? Surely he wouldn't forget such an important detail! Unless he had forgotten on purpose...

Stephen gently picked his way through the forest, using the trampled grass as a path. Days ago, this place had been swarming with police and recovery teams. They had left their mark, and it was easy to find the place where the body had been. He knelt at the edge of the clearing, and scanned it briefly. Now, if Alex had hidden any evidence, where would he kick it?

Shaking his head at the obscene thought, he stood up and started pacing his way around the trampled plants. He couldn't think like that, unless he had evidence. Now, hypothetically, if someone had wanted to disturb a crime scene by not taking pictures of the entire body from all angles because there was a piece of evidence that would be picked up with a camera, where would he put it?

He could've, Stephen realized, taken it with him and then thrown it away...

Acting on a hopeful hunch, Stephen took a few steps into the trees surrounding the crime scene and circled it that way. He kept his eyes open, trying to find something, anything that would stand out or that didn't belong in a forest beside a dead body-

A footprint straddled the ground like a sticker on an apple. Stephen stopped in his tracks and looked around. _Because of course there's going to be people here that will see you... _He knelt down and opened his crime scene kit beside him. Snapping on a pair of gloves he took the camera and clicked a picture. _This isn't anything! There were a dozen people here; maybe this was just someone looking in the outskirts, like you, searching for something that didn't belong._ But it was so firmly planted into the ground, as if someone had stamped his foot down over something to hide it from police eyes. Stephen blinked and leaned closer.

Something blue. Something that was barely visible from where he was leaning, an inch from the footprint; something that stuck up out of the ground, partially unravelled, something that looked like a thread or a piece of hair or a strand of yarn...

_Yeah, blue hair..._ He receded from the ground and pulled an evidence bag and a pair of tweezers from the kit. Before he proceeded, he remembered to take a picture. Then, he leaned close again and gently teased the thread from the ground. Dropping the thread into an evidence bag, he stood up and looked around. Continuing his walk around the scene, he peeled his eyes and scanned every bush and leaf and pebble that seemed out of place. When the perimeter had been searched, he paced the inside of the clearing, walking back and forth like a bothered parrot stalking his cage with his head down, his steps small and defiant. For two hours he walked that way, and when he had reached the edge of the clearing and looked up, he was surprised to see the distance that the sun had traveled. His neck was sore.

On the way back to the police office, he tried to stay positive; he tried to convince himself that maybe, just maybe, he had found the missing piece to his puzzle. He thanked God that he had at least found something that might have helped him. Stephen smiled, because for the first time in a while, he had found something that was rare and almost unheard of in this world of death and evil. A ray of hope, a reason to keep searching and discovering.

A small, unravelled blue string.


	32. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

"They're onto us." Marie announced as she slammed her way through the door and plopped into a chair. Everyone present at the meeting looked up from their notes.

"My dear Marie." Culvis stood up and nodded in her direction. "Do you care to explain why you are late to our _scheduled _meeting." An unscheduled meeting could be missed; it could be overlooked every now and then. But a _scheduled _meeting? Certainly not! It had been on the calendar all week. Culvis tried to contain anger.

"I'm sorry, but I was being encaged by Lightridge and his parade of badges." Marie's voice was cynical. How dare she?

"What?" She thought she had power over him because she was a woman, which was totally ridiculous. Culvis glared at her. "What did you tell them?"

"They know that I lied to them about Tanner. They accused me of being some pawn in your little scheme." She let out an exasperated sigh. Her hair was all wispy and messy from her sudden arrival and her face was flushed, making her pale complexion that much more evident. She looked terrible.

"And you agreed to it?" Culvis sat down and slammed the table with his fist. The few gathered around looked up with a start and then quickly avoided each other's stares, finding the floor suddenly extremely interesting. Culvis ignored them. They were all imbeciles anyway.

"Of course not. They have no evidence and nothing to prove." She shook her head in disbelief, making the loose strands of her hair flap wildly. "But that Lightridge, he is smart. Somehow, he figured out most of your plan. If he can find anything to support his ideas, we'll be finished!" Her French accent made half of the words sound like Greek.

Culvis flapped his hand, as if pushing her words away with a flick of the wrist. "Lightridge is an idiot, as well as the rest of those puppets of his. We are fine." But his stomach started to stir uneasily.

"They made the connection between you, Tanner and Faith." Marie added quietly.

"They what?" Impossible! They couldn't possibly know that he had employed Tanner, much less paid him to kill Faith.

"Lightridge is smart, I tell you! He said that you employed Tanner to kill Faith and when he failed, you killed him." Marie looked hideously smug as she turned from him and glanced around the table at the others.

Culvis spun and faced James. "Why haven't you told me of this? I thought they were ceasing the investigation."

"They were! That's what Walton said. If Stephen is still chasing goose eggs, then he is doing it separately from the Department." James looked confident and Culvis took confidence in that. James never failed. Culvis employed James, so when James never failed, Culvis never failed. Everything would be fine.

Marie shook her head. "Walton was in the interrogation."

Culvis' stomach dropped. "Stephen is not investigating separately?"

Marie shook her head. Culvis spun to James again. "What are you keeping from me?" He stood up and leaned down over James. James' face turned a shade lighter, and for a second Culvis recognized the feeling that jumped across his eyes as the same look that always befell his victims. The look of utter fear and failure. "Have you missed something? Let something _minor _slip?" Culvis hated _minor _things with a passion. You thought that you were fine, until something small happens and you pass it along, and it comes back to bite your butt when you're not looking with your riches. Then you are ruined.

James shook his head. "If Stephen is chasing tails, he is doing it separate from the Department. But he would still need Walton's 'ok' in order to access files and evidence. But he'll never find anything else to add to his non-existent evidence files, because we never left anything behind."

Culvis found some relief in those strong words, but was still slightly uneasy. He leaned back and sat back down, giving James space to breathe. James was right, of course. They had nothing to worry about. Everything had been executed according to plan; nothing had gone wrong. _Of course everything is alright, you're brilliant and Lightridge is a silly bimbo trying to make fire from grass. He won't find anything._

Culvis blinked as voices came to him. He realized that the others around the table had started arguing.

"What if they do find something! We'll be ruined." Tom, a tooth-pick thin genius with a knack for pessimism, spoke up with a glimmer of fear in his eyes.

"I don't want to go to jail!" Samantha, a brunette with a few extra pounds bouncing on her neck, whined. Culvis groaned internally and wished that they would just shut up.

"We wouldn't even be in this mess," Kent, an obese blonde with rolling jowls that swallowed his collar and threatened a few buttons to split open and spill all over his enormous body, growled. He swung his head to look at the two body guards, Shane and Wayne, causing his fat to jiggle all over his body. It seemed like a huge feat. "If these two hadn't put the body _behind _our building. How idiotic was that?"

"Hey, watch it pal." Shane growled and clenched his fists.

"Well, uh." Wayne began dumbly, searching for words. They were brothers, dull as a doorknob, strong enough to lift cars. He had hired for the brawl, not the brain, and Culvis was starting to regret that decision. He was regretting hiring all of them at that moment too. No good stupid geezers who floated through life without a clue as to where the river of foolishness had taken them. But what had the muscle been thinking?

"Yes." Culvis voiced his opinion. "What were you thinking, Wayne?"

"We thought that the cops would think that the body was from the Pub..." Shane's voice was monotone and grated on Culvis' ears. He was now thoroughly regretting that hiring plan.

"Yeah, and maybe the cops would think that we were too smart to stash a body behind us, so we were being set up...or something like that." Shane offered.

"I don't really care about what you think." Culvis shut them down. They dropped their stares and shut their drooping mouths. Idiots.

"What about the drugs?" Tina, a tiny redhead with an annoyingly nasal soprano voice and ungodly wide brown eyes, looked scared.

All eyes turned to Culvis expectantly. As if it was his fault. "Well, have any of you left anything for Lightridge to trace?"

They all shook their heads. Obviously. No one would stick themselves to the cross, they would rather have the entire program shut down and go down altogether. "Well then, how could they find out about the drugs?" A few of them nodded, though Tina still looked unsure.

"But what about your background? Couldn't they use that for a warrant and look around?"

Culvis nearly had to grab the chair's arms to restrain himself from bursting up and strangling her for the obscene comment. Rage boiled his blood. The nerve! "You dare blame me for anything again and I will personally slit your throat!" She shrank back in her chair, as did everyone else at the table. His voice was venom. _Yes, fear me you disgusting spineless worms! I hold your lives, remember that. _"Those fools didn't have anything to nail me, or to even gossip about, back then. They certainly haven't found anything else, or I would be behind bars. Does that answer your question?"

Tina nodded in one small dip of her head, like a mouse about to be eaten by a cat. In fact, the gesture had looked like a swallow more than a nod, the dipping being in result of her throat contracting. Culvis smiled coldly and looked about the table. "Good. Now, does anyone else have any other doubts? Questions? Meaningless gabber?" Shakes all around. _Good, slide back into your dusty holes of fear. It's the only thing you're good for anyway. _

They resumed their meeting, with Samantha hosting and everyone else bent over paper scribbling notes. Culvis leaned back in his chair, pleased with his work. Here he had six workers, excluding James, scared to the bone of him and working for their lives. If they quit, they were dead. If they made a mistake, they were dead. They had no breathing room or space for excuses, because the company was their life. Their ticket to gold. The drugs paid them all handsomely, so it wasn't like they were complaining. They were just pawns.

He and James shared a knowing smile. And of course, everything with Faith was going well. Within the week she would be falling for Alex, James had informed him earlier. They had had a date and a few kisses, and Culvis was seeing victory in the horizons. Maybe, after this whole incident with the police, they would expand their company, selling drugs- and coastal goods- all over the world, not just America. International Coastal Shipping Industry. Or maybe still the American Coast Shipping Industry, with international benefits. He would be filthy rich, more so than usual.

Culvis smiled as he gazed around the table, seeing famous Asian and European figures seated in those chairs instead of the fools that now occupied the seats. He would rise to the top of the business world, becoming someone like Gates, only in trading. He would trade all kinds of luxurious goods- foods, clothes, precious metals, rare animals and skins, drugs- around the world, resulting in an enormous pay check.

He was brilliant.

Faith sat in the waiting room of the Golden Hope Therapeutic Centre. After a few meetings with her art manager and her therapist, she had decided to schedule a session with a woman who knew her own therapist quite well. Faith's therapist, Sandra Wells, had emailed all of Faith's file to this new therapist, a woman named Michelle Collins. The session would go for as long as it needed to, and hopefully it would help Faith figure out why she was having these random flashbacks and visions from her past. Ariel had agreed that it would be a good idea, and Faith needed someone to talk to anyway. Someone who wouldn't judge her or turn away because of the pain in her story.

Every year, Faith would meet with Sandra Wells and go through an overall check-up, just to see how she was doing. She had missed her last check-up when she had gone under in security during the AM case, and since her therapist was not available for a few months, she had recommended Michelle.

The secretary smiled at her from behind her desk and motioned her to stand up. "Dr. Collins will see you now, Faith." She led Faith to a room that was nicely furnished with a warm fire blazing in a fireplace. Dr. Collins sat behind a cherry desk across from the fire.

"Faith, it's so nice to meet you." Michelle stood up from the desk and walked over to shake her hand. She nodded at the secretary, who left, closing the door behind herself. Faith smiled at her.

"Please have a seat, wherever you feel comfortable." Faith chose a huge Lay-Z-boy that she could pull up her feet on and still get swallowed in its soft, brown fabric. It made her feel childish, reminding her of all the other times that she had sat in a similar room, pouring out her heart to a stranger with a notepad.

Michelle sat across from her on a green couch and started the conversation with mindless small talk, a way to help Faith open up. After a while, Faith seemed to want to talk to Dr. Collins, to tell her about everything that had happened to her in the last month. They had settled on a comfortable silence, when Faith finally decided to tell her.

"Dr. Collins, I-"

"Oh, please call me Michelle."

Faith smiled at her. "Michelle, lately I have been having these flashbacks, strange _visions_ of my past."

Michelle looked concerned, and tucked a piece of her short blonde hair behind her ear. "When did this begin?"

"About a month ago." Faith told her about her dream, the one that described the night that her parents were killed. "And the strangest thing was, was that through the whole dream, it seemed like it was covered by a fog, as if there was something, some part of my dream that wanted to come out, but it was being covered by something. It felt like there was something missing, something that I had forgotten, or been forced to forget. Maybe that's why it felt wrong."

"Have you had this dream before?"

"Yes, a few times in my youth, my younger days in orphanages and almost every night for at least a year after Isabella, my twin sister, was killed."

Faith continued to describe the dream, and then about the strange shattering noise, about how she'd ran to the living room and saw the strange man in a black mask, poking at her furniture, looking for something. "It was almost as if he was trying to find something inside of my couch, but why would he? He was drunk and he almost shot me..." She told Michelle about finding Stephen, and how the abandoned house had set off yet another string of flashbacks.

"I thought that Stephen was my father, and he was angry and drunk, and trying to hit me, or hurt me in some way. When it went black and I looked up and saw Stephen, I could hardly remember what my own name was."

She went back to the days of her staying with Stephen and Ariel, the constant protection, the endless flipping of pages when she'd look at the faces of criminals and try and remember if that had been the man who had shot her shoulder. Her nightmare, the way it had sapped her of her strength, of how it had brought her and Stephen closer. "I felt an extreme attraction to him that night. He seemed so caring and beautiful in the way he loved me and protected me, how he was tried to make my demons go away..."

But of course, Stephen could never love her the same way, Faith explained to Michelle. He was just doing his job, just trying to help her. Faith found herself with tears in her eyes, felt herself pouring out herself and her impossible story to Michelle. Michelle seemed to really care, more so than some of the other therapists that had tried to work with her over the years. Michelle asked good questions, and seemed to be trying to pull the truth out of Faith, the truth that Faith had hidden deep down. She mentioned once that maybe the key to the flashbacks were inside of her. "If you had all of those memories pushed back by recent therapists, the odd events might've set off the inner turmoil."

When Faith was done telling her story of the long month, of her memories and her nightmares, and of how she hated Stephen and wanted Alex, Michelle stood up and brought them both a cup of tea, and some sheets of paper that Faith could only assumed belonged in her file. The tea was good, and it soothed her throat. She felt lighter, as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders and now Michelle carried her weight. Faith let the warm minty tea comfort her while Michelle sorted a few papers.

"Back when you were a child, the ways of therapy were much different than today's methods." Michelle put down the papers and leaned forward, totally involving Faith. "They thought that the only way to heal trauma was to pretend that it never happened, and that's what they did to you. According to your file, your doctors had healed your scars and done plastic surgery on your arms and legs, but in your heart and mind, they tried to push it away and make you forget your childhood."

Michelle went on to tell her that they had done the wrong thing. Today's methods would have met the trauma head on and tried to heal it, rather than just push it deep into her consciousness. The doctors should have talked about every single event that haunted her, and soothed it so that it wasn't burning red and hot anymore, it was merely a bad memory, not a nightmare. She said that the methods that they had used had resulted in the smallest events, the things that paled in comparison to some of her past, had slipped past her minds barricades and had broken hell upon her consciousness. When something terrible, like being shot in the shoulder, had happened to her, it had weakened her resolve, allowing those memories to attack her.

Faith felt all the pieces coming together. Of course, it all seemed to make sense. Her therapy had been bad, so the end result had been a failure. She listened to Michelle as she wrapped up her conclusion. "These visions that you have been having were merely a result to your bad doctors; it has nothing to do with you."

They scheduled another meeting every Monday for the next six weeks, and Michelle promised that she would try and use the new technology of modern therapy to help heal the scars brought on by her old therapists. Faith thanked her and promised to keep in touch for the rest of the week.

"If any other flashbacks or anything happens, don't be afraid to call and schedule an appointment other than Monday. You'll be my first priority, and if a meeting doesn't work, you can always phone me or email any traumatic events." Michelle smiled and gave Faith her business card along with her home phone number and a hug.

When Faith stepped outside, she was amazed at what time it was. She had spent nearly four hours talking to Michelle about the past month. She turned her phone on, and realized with a smile that Alex had texted her. CALL ME WHEN YOUR SESSION ENDS. WE CAN GRAB A BITE AND TALK. HOPE IT ALL GOES WELL. 3 She smiled at the heart and quickly called him. They planned to meet at a coffee shop near Faith's house.

Ten minutes later, Faith pulled up at the shop. It was locally owned and operated, like most coffee shops in Casey, by an old couple and their grandkids. She wasn't surprised to see Alex's car in the parking lot, and she parked beside it. With a quick check in her mirror, she stepped out into the fresh autumn air.

Alex smiled when he spotted her and gave her a quick, comforting hug. They ordered coffee and a sandwich for her, since she had talked past lunch, and fell into a comfortable small talk. Soon, she brought up the session, telling him bits and pieces of the afternoon, just on the surface answers. Faith wasn't really in the mood for another deep conversation, and even though she recognized that she was being distant, she didn't care. The therapy had worn her out and she was craving her sketchbook.

She stared at her hands and slowly nursed the coffee cup in her hands, not meaning to, but ignoring Alex and zoning out, thinking about her manager and about how badly she wanted to take Autumn, her horse, out for a ride.

"Faith?" Alex asked, sounded impatient.

Faith's head snapped up and her face flushed. "I'm sorry, Alex, it's just been a long day."

Alex nodded, then continued to talk to her, as if he didn't understand what '_it's been a long day' _meant.

Something was irritating her. Maybe it was the fact that she had spent half of her day talking to Michelle about her life, but somehow talking to Alex wasn't helping. His voice grated on her ears like nails on a chalkboard, as she found herself wishing she had just gone home. Maybe then she wouldn't feel so stressed; she wouldn't feel like she _had _to smile or pretend or entertain Alex, she could just relax, the way she had with Stephen.

Strangely, thinking about Stephen didn't rub her the way she expected...

After an hour of torturing herself and talking about nothing to Alex, he finally seemed to be done with it. "Hey," He reached across the table and took her hand in his. "Are you ok? You aren't acting like yourself."

Which is what? She wanted to shout at him. _You've only known me for a week! What kind of game are you trying to play? _"I'm just tired from the therapy, I guess. I'm sorry." He was only trying to be nice, trying to be her friend; just trying to help, she reminded herself. _Isn't that what Stephen had been trying to do, too? _

"Well, I should probably be going. It was nice talking to you, Faith." He pulled out his cell-phone and checked the time. "Maybe we could have lunch tomorrow?"

Faith had been dazing off, lost in some mental conversation with herself. _Forget about Stephen! For god's sake, woman, get a hold of yourself! _She looked up to see Alex looking at her expectantly. "I'm sorry, what?"

He sighed, impatient again. _Stephen wouldn't be impatient, he would understand, and try to help you..._ "Lunch? Tomorrow?"

"Oh, yeah...Sorry, I have a lunch date planned with my business manager. Maybe Tuesday?"

"Faith," He shook his head. "Tomorrow is Tuesday."

Her cheeks flushed as she realized that she'd forgotten what day it was. What was wrong with her? "Yeah, right. Maybe Wednesday?"

"Yeah, sure." He pulled her into a hug as they both stood up. "Faith," He leaned down and gave her a quick, confident kiss, as if to remind her that he had feelings for her. As if she'd forgotten. "Feel better, ok?"

Faith nodded and walked outside to her car, her head in a fog. What had just happened? Had she really just spent an hour talking about nothing to Alex, probably annoying the heck out of him with her random blank-outs and vacant stares? Alex cared about her – not the Stephen way- but the Alex way, with lunch dates and quick kisses and making her promise to feel better. She shook her head on the drive back home, disgusted at herself.

Dropping onto her bed, she pulled out her sketchpad and pencils, pondering Michelle's words. _"They thought that the only way to heal trauma was to pretend that it never happened..." _Faith wondered what exactly she had been forced to forget. She could still remember her father's face, could still smell that horribly disgusting smell of alcohol that clung to him like stink on a pig. Ironic, since he was a pig and he definitely stunk.

She still remembered the way his eyes had been holes sinking into the depths of hell, could feel his fingernails as they sank into her skin, could re-live the pain that ripped through her when he had drug those fingernails down her back, making a pain so hot that she couldn't even scream, could hardly breathe, could only bend over and gasp for air, could feel the mucus and tears running down her face, could choke on herself, could swear that her back was on fire-

Faith shook her head and looked up. Re-living the past wouldn't do anything good for anyone. She rolled over onto her stomach and tapped one of her pencils against the paper absentmindedly. What if there had been some sort of important kind of information that she had been forced to forget? What if that tiny tidbit could solve the entire case?

Impossible, Faith told herself. That happened fourteen years ago and it had nothing to do with today. She stood up and made herself a cup of tea, wondering about her past, about the part that she couldn't remember. She could feel it, that block in her mind where her memories should be. Going through intensive training and surgery had stolen part of her life, the part that was slowly seeping out of the safe in her mind created to _protect _her. Why would her therapists do that?

She took a few steps up the stairs, when without warning a shadow danced up on the wall in her peripheral vision. She turned and shrieked and her cup of tea flew out of her hand, bouncing down the stairs and spilling tea all over the hardwood. She gasped when she saw that it was only a branch snuggling up with the window. Faith took a step down her stairs, her foot pressing into the spilt, hot tea, causing her to slip backwards and knock her head on a step. She felt the wind go out of her, when suddenly she saw a flash of a face.

It was shadowy and flitted just beyond her sight, deep in her mind. It looked irritatingly familiar, and she tried to grab it, but it slipped out of her reach, like a fast receding dream. She stood up slowly, rubbing her sore head and leaning on the rail as she stepped down the stairs, careful to avoid the wet patches of tea. She quickly cleaned up the broken tea cup and spilt tea.

Back on her bed, Faith picked up her sketchbook, eager to try and remember. What had just slipped from the lock in her mind? Who was the strange man? She tried to remember his face, but it still danced in the shadows, just out of reach, like a word on the tip of her tongue. Still, she picked up her pencil and began outlining a face, hoping that it would come with each stroke.

Suddenly, she felt something strange guiding her pencil, as if someone was holding her hand and drawing the picture for her. She didn't know why, but she felt that she needed to draw his eyes this way, and add a scar on the bottom half of his cheek. The smoke was clearing from her mind, and with every line she drew and every detail she added, his face became clearer in her mind. Who was this man? How was he linked to her past.

Finding herself adding shadows and darkness to the lines of his face, she made the picture look darker, hateful. Had she hated this man? Had he hated her? For some unknown reason, she had a feeling that the picture she had drawn was entirely accurate to the face in her mind. After an hour, Faith leaned back and studied the strange man. His eyes, so full of shadows and hatred, stirred a passion deep inside of her. She knew that he had been a major part of her childhood. Now it was up to her to figure out why and who he was.

Her doorbell rang, shaking her out of her deep trance of thought and making her jump. She ran downstairs and smiled when Ariel's face peered at her through the windows of her door. She gave her a long hug and they sat down at her kitchen table. Faith went to make them some tea.

"So, how was your therapy session? Did you figure out the reason for your strange visions?" Ariel eagerly asked.

"It was so good! Michelle, my doctor, told me that the reason was because my old doctors had used terrible methods that simply forced me to forget my trauma, instead of trying to heal it. And it piled up in some safe in my head, but whenever traumatic things happen, like getting shot, they can slip out. I've got a meeting with her every Monday for six weeks." Faith smiled, sitting down with their tea.

"Oh that's wonderful! I hope that you get better, Faith, I truly do." She looked around the house. "So what have you been doing around here? It smells so good in here, like you sprinkled tea around the walls!"

Faith laughed and quickly explained how she had gotten spooked and thrown her tea and slipped and had, again, a weird flashback. "But this time, it wasn't like a vision, or an event." Faith shook her head, puzzled. "It was just a face. The face of a man who I just know was a major part in my life, but I just can't remember who or why or what he is! I drew a picture of him."

Ariel was instantly interested. "A picture? Oh, can I see it?" Ariel loved her drawings, insisting that if they were slightly cheaper, she would buy a dozen and decorate her home with them. As a gift, Faith had given her a few paintings and Ariel loved them.

Faith led her upstairs and gave her the picture. "Wow, he looks so... so angry!" Ariel looked up at Faith, concerned. "This is how you remember him? If I were you, I wouldn't want to remember someone like that."

Faith agreed about how strange it was, and they talked for a while more about life and how crazy it is. "Gabriel is doing great!" Ariel informed her. "I got a letter from him yesterday and a picture. I can't believe how much he's grown!" Gabriel was Ariel's sponsor child from Africa. She got him five years ago, when he was only four. She talked about him often, and loved him like he was her own son.

It was nearly supper time when Ariel decided that she had to go do some errands before she made herself dinner. After Ariel left, Faith wandered back upstairs and found herself starring into an angry pair of sketched eyes. She sat down and tried to figure out what was bugging her. It looked right- the angles of his face and the rage in his eyes were all accurate to the image dancing in her mind- but it seemed _wrong_, as if he shouldn't be angry, as if the way she had remembered him was wrong.

She quickly pulled out another piece of paper and sketched a duplicate of the angry man on another sheet. It took her a few minutes to decided what needed to change, to make it look right; his eyes needed to be lightened and his mouth need to smile, giving the picture an air of kindness. Faith put her eraser and pencil to work, lightening the picture and adding happiness to his eyes. When she was done, it looked wrong- his mouth was too big and awkward and his eyes looked like she had cut them out and pasted them onto a dirty face- but it _felt right._ As she tried to fix it up a bit more, she could feel small pieces of her mind breaking free of the chains that had held in her memories, as if with every stroke of her pencil she was weakening the wall holding in the wave of memories that threatened to destroy her.

She began to see a new picture, a bit of ruffled hair and a flash of a smile pushing its way onto the old, angry picture of the strange man. His image changed, and it was easier to draw now. After a few minutes, she grabbed a new piece of paper and copied the image in her head down. He had a dimple on his left cheek and a crooked smile. His eyes shone with- was that love?- and happiness, an energy that Faith knew was genuine. Leaning back, she smiled.

Because even though it was still a little imperfect, and even though the image in her head was blurry and even though she hadn't didn't know who the man was, and even though it _looked wrong_, it _felt right. _And it felt familiar. And that was more than what she could say about the past month.

Lately, things had been strange and uncomfortable and foreign, as if someone had plucked her from her quiet, artistic life and dropped her on the shores of Antarctica. Life was cold and alone, just a blanket of white. And she was struggling in the freezing water, trying to swim back to her quiet life, but with the rushing waves and screaming fish, everything seemed a lot louder...

And if she wasn't careful, she might drown in the heavy noise.


	33. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

"So what kind of business do you do here?" Stephen leaned closer to the skinny blonde kid with glasses holding a foot of papers.

"I file and organize the shipping papers and receipts." The kid shrugged. He looked sort of nervous; as if he wasn't sure he should be chatting with a police officer.

"Is there usually a lot of papers to file?" Stephen flipped open his notebook and smiled an '_it's a hard world out there, and you're doing just fine' _smile.

"Not a lot, just the usual customers." He shifted the papers in his hands and took an uneasy step back, wanting to get back to those exciting filing cabinets, no doubt.

"What customers?"

"Oh you know, manufacturers, clothing industries, food companies." He trailed off as he shoved his hand into the pile and started sifting through, searching for a list of their employers. A few fluttered off and spun to the ground, like lazy ducks. Stephen bent down to pick them up and accidentally collided with the kid who had also bent down. The foot of papers blew to the right and dropped to the floor, slipping from the kids clawing fingers and scattering across the floor of the lobby.

"Oh, geez kid I'm sorry." Stephen scurried to help the kid, when he heard someone clear their throat. He looked up to see Marie standing by her counter, tapping the shiny top. _Tap tap tap tap tap..._

"Monsieur Witson will see you now." She turned away without a word, expecting him to follow. Stephen quickly grabbed a few more papers and thrust them into the kid's arms, "Sorry," and hurried to follow the telltale sound of Marie's heels.

He followed her into an office and sat down opposite a tall, fit man with extremely large shoulders. His hair was thin and black and sat stiff on his shiny forehead like frozen grass. His desk was clear and his office was neat; there were no spare papers or misplaced pens anywhere in that high-ceilinged room. Witson had prepared himself.

"Good morning officer, how may I be of service?" Witsons voice was loud and gravelly, powerfully projecting his voice even though Stephen was the only one present.

"I would just like to ask you a few questions about your business. You are aware that this building was partially involved in a murder investigation." Stephen matched his power, but wasn't quite as loud. He was afraid that his voice might crack.

"Pardon me?" Witsons brow furrowed in, creating lines that cut into his face and causing his skin to bulge out over the wrinkles.

Stephen swallowed a sigh. "About a week ago, Bob Tanners body was found in the woods behind your building. Ever since, your industry has been under speculation."

Witsons brow softened some. "Oh, yes that murder investigation." He cleared his throat. "Well, sir I can assure you that we run a very tight ship around here, and we do nothing questionable. You can search my office; there isn't anything here."

"Yes, well searching won't be necessary. I'd just like to ask you a few questions." Stephen went on to ask about his business and industry, about the different resources that ACSI provided.

"Lately, we've been getting late deliveries from the northern part of the pacific, because of storms and such, you understand. It's not good for business, and I fear that we may have to move our operations southern." Witson shook his head, clearly troubled. "If we move, we'd have to change some of our resources, because certain uh... how would you say it, certain goods aren't available in southern regions of the ocean."

Witson seemed to make one thing _very_ clear: his business was in no way questionable or unjustifiable on any counts.

"So, you treat your workers fairly then?"

"Well yes! Ask anyone around here, they all enjoy their work as much as you can enjoy office work." Witson chuckled deeply.

Stephen felt that this questioning was going nowhere, so he decided to spice things up a bit. "I understand that fourteen years ago, you employed a Darth Woods who was later promoted to Manager of Shipping, and was also murdered by Mary-Anne Woods, his wife." He had picked up this tidbit from a police report done on the case.

Witson looked confused. "Well, that was fourteen years ago, but yes Darth does sound familiar. Why?"

"Did you also know that drugs were found in his home, along with a list of names, several of which are employed in this building, including you?"

Witson looked bored and leaned back, shaking his head. "Yes, I did know that, because I was a part of that investigation. They thought, actually _suspected,_ that I was running some- some drug operation. How crazy is that?"

"Mmhmm. Crazy."

"For all I know, that sheet was probably a payday list; you know he was also in charge of payday, back then we didn't have fancy things like accountants and secretaries and treasurers." He leaned forward, more serious. "But what does Darth have to do with Bob Tanner's death?"

"A week before Tanners death, Tanner broke and entered into a woman's home and shot her in the shoulder."

"Yes, I remember that, it was all over the news." Witson blinked. "Wait, _Tanner shot her?_ Our Tanner?"

"Mmhmm. Crazy."

"Officer Lightridge, if you are suggesting that the ACSI had _anything _to do with Tanners death or Faith's assault, you are strongly mistaken. We wouldn't _shoot_ people, for god's sake, we-we're just sailors and fishers over here. And what would we gain from shooting Faith anyway? I hadn't even heard of her before the news report!"

"Yes, the news does inform a lot of people about a lot of things, don't they?"

"Well yes! That poor girl! How could someone have done something so horrible as to _shoot_ the poor child! She was hardly an adult."

Stephen ignored this. "You know what information they didn't include in the newscast that I wish that they had?"

"What?" Witson leaned forward, expecting some juicy piece of secret police information.

"Her name."

Witsons face lost its color.

Stephen stood up and pushed his chair in. He smiled. "Thank you for all of your help, Mr. Witson. I hope I didn't take up too much of your time." He opened the door and put one foot out the door.

"Well now, Mr. Lightridge-" Stephen closed the door on as Witson stood up, face flushed and pale and intimately scared. He strode quickly from the building, not wanting to see that disgusting, spineless pig again. His smile dropped from his face and he held his hands to keep them from shaking as he climbed into his truck and drove back to his office.

Sitting down in his familiar chair, he shoved his hands into his hair and grabbed at his roots, rage filling him. That pig _was _involved in the AM case! How dare he? How dare he stare Stephen in the face and _pretend _to _care_ about the girl that he had ordered be killed?

_Dear God I'm gonna kill that worm!_ He exhaled deeply and slowly sat up, pulling his hands out of his hair.

It was then that he realized that the recorder was still going. He pulled it out of his pocket and pushed stop, then re-winded, ejected and stuck it into a player to listen to their conversation. He listened to it over again, to Witsons cheesy voice and go-lucky chuckles, as if they were old friends going golfing. _Aye George, did you hear about that poor child on the news? Yes I set up that hit. Brilliant, isn't it? Ah! Well hey, a hole in one would you look at that! _

He picked up his phone and dialled Ariel's number. She picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey Ariel, this is Stephen."

"Oh hey! What's up?"

"I just had an interview with Culvis Witson, the manager of ACSI." Stephen ran a hand through his hair.

"Oh! Did you find anything?" Her tone contradicting her words, sounding more like _how farfetched were we this time? _

"Witson set up the hit." He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Silence echoed back at him.

"Ariel?" He opened his eyes and lowered his hand.

"Are you serious?" Her words were slow and carefully measured.

"Well, I have lots of hints and-"

"So you don't know for certain." All relief from earlier had evaporated from her voice, like rainfall in a desert.

"Well, I do have certain reasoning-"

"Stephen, we can't go on hunches! You can't just hear nervousness in a suspect's voice and deduce from that small infliction that he _killed _a person, much less set up a hit and has been _stalking _her. I mean, I actually thought that you _had _something this time! Did he confess? Did he show you his bloody hands? I was wondering, thinking maybe, just _maybe _that you actually had a legit testimony, but what do you give me? A _certain reasoning?_ What _is _that, Stephen, what?"

"Did we ever give the press Faith's name, age or situation?"

Ariel paused, clearly rethinking her outburst. "No. All that they showed was that someone had broken into a young adult's house and shot her in the shoulder. She was lost in the woods for a few hours, and was found by a police officer."

"Witson knew her name."

"What?"

"He knew her name, Ariel, he knew the victim by the name of Faith. He said, if you are suggesting that the ACSI had _anything _to do with Tanners death or Faith's assault, you are strongly mistaken. He said, Faith! Now, how would he know what her name was, unless he was somehow involved in the attempted murder?"

"Are you absolutely certain that he said her name?"

"I got it on tape."

"Amazing."

They hung up, and Ariel promised to arrive at the office soon. The relief that had been baiting him from the sidelines finally gave in and he gave a victory whoop. They were going to get him! They were going to finish this case and help Faith!

He sat down and filed through the mess of his desk to find the final case report that him and Ariel had typed out the day before. He scanned its contents quickly, hardly even reading the thing. He was so elated that if he hadn't been clutching the desk with white knuckles, he would've floated up to the ceiling. And he probably wouldn't have noticed.

Giving up on reading the report, he stood up and began to sketch a rough diagram on the whiteboard hanging on the far wall. He drew a crooked circle and wrote _Faith _in the centre of it. Adding connecting lines, he wrote out the people connected to her, good people in blue, bad people in red. _Ariel, Me, Mary-Anne, Isabella, Witson, Darth, ACSI, CSU. _

The lines and circles created an octopus shape. He added more limbs to the octopus, and from those limbs extended parts of tentacles stating their relationship to Faith. _Ariel: Protecting police officer and friend. Me: Protecting police officer and closer friend. _He laughed and erased the _closer. _Not anymore bucko.

_Mary-Anne: Late Mother who was killed when Faith was five. Isabel: Twin sister who was killed when Faith was ten. Witson: Manager of ACSI who was involved in the AM. Darth: Late Father who was killed when Faith was five. ACSI: American Coast Shipping Industry involved in the AM. CSU: Cocaine Shipping Unit. Former employer of Darth. Involved in Faith`s family`s deaths. _

Leaning back, he admired his demented octopus with extremely long tentacles. At the bottom of the diagram, he wrote his theory.

Fact: Faith`s parents were killed on the same night when she was five.

Theory: The CSU was involved in their deaths and murdered Mary-Anne.

Fact: The CSU employed Darth.

Stephen had no theory for that one.

Fact: After the investigation, the CSU dissolved and dove into hiding. They haven`t been found yet.

Theory: Ten years later, they changed names as the ACSI and pop up in Casey, in the same area as the CSU, with a boss who was suspected in the CSU investigation. They attack Faith because of her relation to Darth and her memories.

Fact: Bob Tanner shot Faith in the shoulder.

Theory: Tanner was employed by the ACSI and was sent to kill Faith. He got drunk before he attacked her, so she survived his bullets.

Fact: A week later, Ariel and Alex found Tanners body behind the ACSI.

Theory: After Tanner failed to kill Faith, he was killed and dumped behind shop.

Ariel chose that moment to walk in, right when Stephen was starting to forget the lines between fact and fiction. She ran her eyes over his diagram and nodded. "Makes sense." She smiled at him.

They sat down and listened to the tape of the interview. After it had run through and had been spitting out static and the random car horn and screeching tires from when he had raced to the office and forgotten to turn off the recorder, Ariel nodded again and looked at Stephen.

"He shouldn't have known Faith's name unless he was involved in the case or the shooting."

Stephen nodded.

"Unless he had someone on the inside."

Stephen chose his next words carefully, worried that he might offend her. "I think that maybe Alex is involved in that."

She looked surprised. "Alex?"

"Well, when I was looking through the pictures and evidence from the crime scene where you found Tanner, there was pictures leading up to the body, and the body itself, but no pictures of the surrounding area, or the entire body, just shots of arms and the head and torso, which is against protocol and extremely irresponsible."

Ariel leaned back in her chair. "Well, he did seem kind of…shifty when we were walking around the body, before the rest of the team arrived. He was looking around really intently, like he expected to find something and would jump when I made a loud noise…"

"And he seems really interested in Faith…" Stephen let the statement hang.

She sighed. "I think he's taken her out for lunch a couple of times."

"What?"

"He asked her out, and she seems different now. Maybe it was her therapy sessions, but she seems to be less happy, as if something is draining her, and I've seen her texting him and stuff…"

Stephen clenched his fists. "The little jerk."

Ariel shook her head. "I tried to warn her, even made her promise not to fall for his tricks, but I guess it wasn't worth it. She's young and stupid; she doesn't understand the wrong that's been done to her."

Why couldn't she see that it was him, and only him, that could truly love her? Alex was a player and would only break her heart.

"Stephen," Ariel reached out and grabbed his shoulder, jerking him towards her. "You need to help her. I don't care about what your father said about her, and I don't care about what she said about you; she is in trouble. There's something bigger than us at work here, I can feel it tugging at me, warning me to watch out for something, but I don't know what…"

Stephen nodded and leaned back in his chair. He could feel it too. Like whenever he was with Alex, or even just thought about Alex, a cloud seemed to come over him, darkening his actions and words, and making everything suspicious. He wasn't to be trusted, not by Ariel, not by Stephen, and definitely not by Faith.

The sun was beginning to set in the window in the western wall; a flood of orange seeped into the room, painting Ariel's features to a yellowish hue. He looked out at the clouds that cupped the sky, sheltering it from the evil of man. They were dark, dipped in orange underneath and flaking to grey as they climbed closer to the heavens, as if they knew what was coming, and had pulled on carroty armour to protect itself from the storm to come.


	34. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

Faith was falling.

Well, not falling exactly, it was more like a slow tumble through a void of faces. She saw the strange man who's frown felt wrong, eyes burning a harsh gold, making her shiver as if she had been pushed out into sudden cold. She saw Stephen and Alex's face, Dr. Michelle and even Ariel, smiling at her as if nothing was wrong. She fell, down a black, no, a dark blue tunnel, and suddenly with a thrust on her back, she was pushed into a room, the walls around her enveloping her in white. Stephen stood in the middle of the white room, but as he turned around, Faith saw that his face wasn't there, it was only a black hole where his beautiful eyes and intriguing smile had once been; twisted inward like a warped pipe, the black hole grew larger, until it had sucked in all of Stephen and through the darkness she could glimpse pieces of a face. She knew then that it was Alex with the same certainty that she knew the world was round, and she began backing away quickly but her back hit the cold white wall and she felt her throat tighten.

"Do not let the darkness consume you Faith." A loud, male voice whispered. Faith turned around, but only came face to face with the white wall.

She turned back to see that the black void had gone, and now Alex stood facing her. She took a step forward and was suddenly in his arms and he was kissing her, pulling at her lower lip with a passionate intensity and Faith groaned and melted into him. She clung to him the way she clung to air, and she breathed him in, sweet and strong. He smelled of pepper and dirt, an earthy, calming smell. His hands held her waist, but as the kiss deepened, his hands dropped lower and lower and Faith felt her feelings intensify until all she was aware of was Alex- Alex's large hands grabbing at her butt and sliding into her pant pockets; Alex's mouth kissing her, his tongue doing funny things with her teeth and his face nuzzling hers softly-

Suddenly a sharp pain bit into her lower lip and she pulled back, startled. Alex had bitten her lip, and her warm blood filled her mouth. She pulled back again, only to realize that Alex wasn't letting go. He bit deeper into her lip, and now the hands that had held her protectively dug into her body and she almost screamed, stifling herself from the pain.

"Alex, let go of me." She could only whisper the words because of the blood that was filling her mouth. She swallowed it, groaning at the salty thickness.

Alex's eyes narrowed and he bit into her harder and Faith was afraid that he was going to bite her lip off entirely. She began to panic now, pushing at him with her hands and trying to pry off his hands from her butt. Alex's claws only deepened and the pain held her in an iron grip and this time she did scream; she yelped loudly and pushed at Alex harder.

With a malicious tug, Alex pulled her closer to him, but she was pushing back and she felt her lip rip off in a wake of blood and flabby skin. He let go of her and turned his head to one side, spitting out her lip and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He did it almost casually, with an air of authority, as if it was common for him to bite off girls lips, like it was his _duty_.

Faith fell to the ground and put her hands up to her mouth, screaming openly now. The pain was dizzying and the blood was falling fast, pouring out of her face the way that blood had poured out of her arm when it was shot, only faster and stronger. A pool was surrounding her, and she had the sickening thought that she had to stand up and leave, because if not she would drown in her own blood. She looked up and around, swinging her head crazily, but there was no door, not even a window in this white room. The blood was staining the pasty floor, scarlet red against angel white, and she felt like she was ruining something beautiful. The thought made her cry more.

Alex had left, disappeared, and she was left alone in a pool of her own blood that was rapidly increasing in size and depth, staining this white room, somehow robbing it of its beauty with this blood and pain. She tipped her head back and screamed at the sky, her teeth dripping red and eyes streaming black tears. The black tears hit the pool of blood, sending scarlet ripples striped in black rolling out into the rest of the room...

Her head was tilted back and she felt suddenly dizzy and faint and she fell backwards, landing in the pool with a slow splash. Her scream got louder as the blood around her welled up around her head, spilling over and into her stretched mouth, choking out her screams and

making her gasp for breath. She was drowning and-

Faith gasped and opened her eyes, choking on her saliva.

She sat up and looked around her, wide eyed. _It was just a dream, just a dream..._She swallowed her drool and ran a hand through her hair, shaking out the shivers and the sweat that lingered in a thin sheen on her pale skin.

She heard a loud ringing, and only after the second time did she realize that it was the phone, not her ears. Faith reached over to her bedside table and picked up the phone. She glanced at the clock as she pressed TALK. 9:14.

"Hello?" Faith cleared her throat.

"Hello Faith! How are you?"

Faith shook her head, trying to clear her head of sleep. "Who is this?"

"Oh I'm sorry," The woman chuckled. "This is Dr. Michelle Collins, your counsellor."

"Oh Michelle, hey. Sorry, I wasn't expecting you, is everything alright?"

"Oh yes, everything is alright with me. I was just checking on you. Are you alright?"

Faith thought of her dream: the black void swallowing up Stephen; the way Alex had been so loving one moment, and so painful the next; the pool of blood, spilling into her mouth and drowning her...

"I'm ok." She let the statement hang.

"Just ok? Have you had anymore flashbacks? Has anything changed?"

Well I..." _Do not let the darkness consume you Faith._ "I actually just had a strange dream. You woke me up."

"Oh? Was it cluttered with memories? Did it hurt you? Were you- actually never mind. Would you like to come in and talk about it? My afternoon appointments got cancelled; I am free after one today."

Faith felt like a burden had been lifted off her shoulders. "Oh yes, thank you, that's exactly what I need. How about two?"

"Perfect! Well then, I'll see you in a few hours."

They said good bye, and Faith put the phone down and leaned back into her pillows. After a few minutes of pondering and waking up, Faith slipped out of her bed and got dressed, twisting her hair into a long braid that hung halfway down her back and pulling on faded jeans and a plaid shirt. She knew what she was going to do even before she had stepped into the clothes; the sky was blue and clear, the air warm enough not to need a jacket, and she had been itching to ride Link, her horse, ever since she had been banned from her house nearly three weeks ago.

She was just saddling up her beautiful stallion when the phone rang again. She had phones in most places of the house, in case of an emergency, and the stable was no exception. She picked up the phone, cradling it against her shoulder as she pulled the saddle onto Link's back.

"Hello?"

"Hey Faith..."

Faith's heart stopped and she nearly dropped the phone. She stepped away from Link and reached up to grab the phone with her hand; she didn't trust her shoulder to have the strength to keep it up.

"Stephen. Is everything all right?"

"Yes, everything is fine. I was just calling about you. I was worried about you, and well we haven't talked in a while. I thought maybe we could grab a cup of coffee or something, go somewhere and talk."

Why was everyone worrying about her today? Has they all had the same dream as her?

She sighed and sat down on a bench beside Link. The horse looked back at her, wondering why she had stopped saddling him. "Oh I don't know Stephen; to be honest I don't really feel like talking over coffee again." _Especially with you_.

It sounded like he groaned in the background. "Faith, look I know I messed up, and I know that I hurt you, but you can't expect the pain to go away unless you give me a chance to try and heal it. It's a beautiful morning, and for the past couple of days, all I've wanted to do is see you and try and make things right, and when I saw the sunrise this morning, I just thought, well hoped, that maybe today would be the day."

Faith looked out at the blue sky and couldn't help but smile. She felt her heart soften and for some reason, she wanted to see him again too. Maybe it was the beautiful day, maybe it was her dream and her morbid thoughts about Alex, maybe it was just the simple fact that she missed him. She nodded to herself, glanced at Link, and stood up to pet the horses back.

"Please Faith, all I'm asking is for you to trust me, and let me try and help you. We don't have to talk about anything if you want, but I just want to see you again, and I feel so bad after what happened, and-" He groaned again, and added a sigh. "Oh this isn't coming out right, but listen. I really miss you and I want to see you again. Is that possible? Will you let me see you again?"

Faith nodded and smiled as she walked up alongside Link, her hand tracing his spine, and petted his nose, staring into his big brown eyes. They seemed to tell her to go for it, to jump into that dangerous abyss of love because he hadn't seen her smile for a while, and finally she was smiling. And Link liked it when she smiled. She took one last glance out at the blue sky before deciding to jump off that cliff that was reflected in Link's eyes. She didn't even lend a thought towards Alex before she grabbed a breath and leaped into the icy waters, intent on grabbing Stephen and pulling him down with her.

"Stephen, would you like to go for a ride with me?"


	35. Chapter 34

Her long hair, twisted into a braid but somehow seemed to fall the same distance down her back as if it were loose, shone as it swayed in motion with her steps. Crisscrossing over itself and tapering down to a point, every strand was the colour of the glistening amber of a tall glass of beer. It was beautiful, and all Stephen wanted was to take it from its bonds and set it free; to feel it wrap around his arm and tickle his face while he kissed her was really all that mattered to him as he walked down under the sun beside this dazzling woman.

She was quiet as she led the horse across the field, silent as the scarecrow that guarded the hill they ascended, but saying so much more than words could. The mere fact that he was here so soon after their fight, after all the rumours he had heard from the police department and Ariel about how Faith and Alex were now together, whispered truth into him and settled his lingering doubts. She wasn't angry at him, and she wasn't seeing Alex. If she was, why would she invite him out here on such a beautiful day to ride with her?

He stole a glance at her and saw that her face was raised to the golden sun, eyes squinted into the heat, obviously enjoying the cloudless sky. Loose strands of fiery hair danced around her face, catching the light and throwing it back out into the wind. Faith was graceful and perfectly at ease with the large horse at her shoulder, as if she led him around every day. The way the reigns were loosely twisted in her fingers suggested a history of trust and love between human and horse, a bond that would be beauty-

"As flattering as your staring is, your feet may appreciate the attention more than I." Stephen quickly turned his head and stumbled over his feet. He stepped aside hastily, but not hastily enough as his left foot slipped into a dip in the ground and he tripped and fell over. Faith laughed behind him as he blushed and struggled onto his legs.

"I'm sorry," She giggled again and lifted a hand to cover her face. "I thought policemen were always supposed to be careful."

"It's my day off." He replied gruffly and shook his shoulders.

"Oh come on," She nudged him with her elbow. "I'm only kidding."

He nudged her back and smiled. "So where are we going again?"

They reached the top of the hill and through the trees he could see the roof of a tall barn. They began their descent toward a fence of trees that signalled the boundaries of land possession.

"Glenn Flynn owns twenty acres on that side of the trees. He sold me my horse, Link, and lets me ride on his trails whenever, since I only have a few acres myself."

"But we only have one horse..."

"Glenn has plenty of horses that he is willing to let you ride. He's meeting us there, at that barn."

Before they walked toward the barn, Faith tied Lincoln's reigns to a tree and gave him a carrot from the saddle. She smiled at him as they stepped through the tree fence and onto the grass.

Stephen was reminded of old western movies as they approached the barn. Large double doors closed by a long slab of wood announced the entrance to the building while a rooster pointing the direction of the wind twisted on top of the brown shingled roof. The walls were dusty and painted a red that used to be bright but was dull under the years of rain and wind. Straw cracked under their boots as they rounded the barn and stepped into a side door that was propped open with a metal bucket full of grain.

"Glenn?" Faith called into the dusty air.

"Over here Love, by the horse stalls." Glenn's voice was heavily laid with an Irish accent. They picked their way around buckets and piles of hay to the horse stalls, where they found a large burly man saddling up a horse. He had a long red beard and wore overalls over a red plaid shirt. Standing at well over six feet, he had to hunch over in order to hug Faith properly. The denim swallowed Faith as Glenn wrapped his gloved hands around her slim frame.

"Hello Glenn. How are you?" Faith stepped back with a fond smile and tilted her head back at the man.

"How am I, Love? Well, I've been better before, way back before high taxes and the lot of 'em government authoritatives were banging on my door, asking me for 'em taxes. But I'm better now that I've seen you again." He squinted and twisted around to see Stephen. "Aye, who's this fine lad? Quite a handsome riding partner."

Stephen stepped up beside Faith and extended a hand to Glenn, offering him a smile.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Flynn."

"Aye, Mr. Flynn eh? That's Glenn to you, Lad. Mr. Flynn makes me feel old." He reached out both of his hands and clasped Stephens in a warm grip. "Pleased to make your meetin', what be the name of you, boy?"

"Stephen Lightridge." He released Glenn's hands and surveyed the barn. "Nice barn you have here, Glenn. How long have you been here?"

Glenn scratched his head. "Well, I believe it was the summer of '86 that me and my Bonnie moved in. She died nigh on eight years ago, ten years after we moved here if I remember correct. It's been me and my barn ever since."

"I'm sorry to hear about your Bonnie, Glenn. Did you move here straight from Ireland?"

"Yes sir, straight from Ireland."

Faith cleared her throat. "Glenn, do you have a horse for Stephen? I tied up Link on a tree outside."

Glenn grinned all over his face, revealing two gaps in his teeth, where his eyetooth and left front tooth should've been. "Sure I do, Love. I was just fixing up ol' Jeanie before you two wandered in."

He led them to a horse stall where a large brown mare stood with a saddle strapped to her back and reigns dangling from a post where she was tied. She snorted when they walked in and tossed her black hair.

"Children," Glenn announced. "Meet Jeanie. She'll be your ride for this afternoon."

"She's beautiful." Faith breathed and stepped forward with a hand extended. Jeanie sniffed her hand cautiously, then nuzzled it with her wrinkled muzzle. Faith rubbed Jeanie's nose and ran a hand through her mane. Stephen joined her beside the mare and he petted her side. She was soft and velvety like a well-used teddy bear or a familiar blanket. She smelt of hay and dust and sweat and Stephen knew instantly that he would like her when she twisted her head around from Faith's hand and stared at him with a big brown eye.

"How old is she?" He murmured.

"I don't rightly know. I rescued her from a shelter a few years back, and they didn't know her age. I would guess she's around twelve."

They led her out of the barn and united her with Lincoln. They nuzzled each other's face and whinnied happily. Faith and Glenn chatted about recent news while Stephen rubbed Jeanie's coat and between her eyes.

Glenn said goodbye when he heard the phone ringing in the house and had to run to catch it. Stephen helped Faith onto her horse, trying to ignore the smell of perfume that lingered on her skin and tickled his nose. He stuck his left foot into the stirrups and swung his right over the horse, sliding into the saddle with a practiced ease. He nodded at Faith and squeezed his legs around Jeanie. She began walking beside Link.

They entered a trail a few hundred yards to the left of the barn. A thin, wild-flower-sprinkled path, it could only accommodate for one rider abreast and they rode single-file for a few moments until the path widened out and Stephen came up beside Faith. The air was sweet but held no conversation until Stephen glanced at the pure blue sky and commented on the weather.

"Yes," Faith smiled back at him. "I couldn't think of a better day to do this."

"And what are we doing exactly?" He could feel Jeanie breathing beneath him, feel the muscle of her legs and the strength of her chest.

She raised an eyebrow at him flirtatiously. "Taking a ride on a beautiful day with a good friend."

"Is that all we are now? Friends?"

"Look Stephen," She sighed and leaned back on Link; he slowed down and snorted. "What we had was great and it was fun and, well you really helped me during those weeks. But I don't think I'm ready to make it anything more again, so...yes. For now, we are just good friends."

He blinked, feeling his heart slow down. And he smiled and nodded and looked away, not wanting to drown in those contact lenses longer than he had to. He heard her laugh and forced his eyes back into her shades of blue. "Race you to the clearing? It's only a few hundred kilometres ahead."

In answer, he pulled back on his horse and felt more than heard Jeanie neigh as she reared up on her back legs. Faith grinned her innocent smile and her mouth split open into another laugh as she pulled on Link's reigns. She may have said something, and Link may have also neighed, but he couldn't seem to find his focus.

It was hard to hear anything over the roaring in his ears.


	36. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

Faith kept up good conversation as they rode along the trail, occasionally stopping to pick a flower and weave it into her braid. She told him about her appointments with Dr. Michelle and everything that she had said about her old therapists that had shed new light on her flashbacks. "I had another flashback yesterday." She told him, her eyes narrowing at the memory. "I was walking up my stairs with a cup of tea, when a branch hit the window and spooked me. I threw my tea cup and jumped. But when I was cleaning up the spilled tea, I slipped and hit my head and a man's face jumped into my head.

"At first when I tried to draw him, he was so angry, and it didn't seem right, so I tried to draw him happier, and soon a new image was in my head, one of a happy, familiar guy that I used to love." She clucked her tongue thoughtfully. "But I just can't remember who he was..."

The sun was warm and kissed their skin with the gentlest of lips. They stopped atop a rise that looked down over a creek and rock bed and decided to have lunch in the shade of the trees and the chatter of the stream. Faith spread out a blanket and pulled out two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, two apples, two water bottles, and two cookies from a small basket attached to the back of Link's saddle. As they ate, Stephen asked her about her earlier life, and so she let herself talk about the past. She didn't go that far back, definitely not fourteen years back, but just to her high school years. By then, she was living in Colusa, California in St. Maria's School of Unfortunate Youth, or in other words, a boarding school for the orphans who were too old for people to want to adopt them, but too young to live on their own.

Faith lived in the School while she was ages fifteen to eighteen along with twelve other kids around the same age. There were two nuns who lived there and taught them, Sister Anne and Sister Bethany. For her whole life, Faith had been homeschooled at her orphanages, usually by nuns, and usually only left the home on fundraising trips or the rare field trips or, of course, when she got boarded by a family who thought that maybe they would adopt her, but just wanted to live with her for a few months first. Sometimes when she was living with these boarding families- the orphans called them Jolly Ranchers- they would let her go to public school with their biological kids, but it usually didn't end up too well because Faith had a tendency to skip the classes with male teachers, and punch boys who touched her, even if it was just a casual hand on her arm, showing her where to go.

There was a girl at the School named Tricia Levine who convinced Sister's Anne and Bethany to let the orphans walk to the high school that was only a few blocks away so that they could 'spread God's word with the outside world'. Tricia really just wanted to live a life outside of the big iron gates that closed them off, quite literally, from everything else that was not related somehow to the word 'orphan'. On January 15, the first day of the second semester of grade 10 for Faith, all thirteen orphans walked the three blocks to St. Maria's Secondary School for Youth, and began high school.

St. Maria, Faith later learned, had been an exceptionally good saint, so good in fact that they decided to name the local high school after her and her orphanage. St. Maria had set up the orphanage so that the kids who went through the system could learn about God and become dutiful servants to him, and in turn the community had rewarded her by building a school in her name.

The first impression that Faith got when she walked through the big, black front doors was that it seemed that all the children in all of America were squished into this one school, because there were thousands of them. Teenagers were everywhere- opening lockers, huddled in groups in the center of the foyer, rushing down the halls, shouting at each other from across the rooms, throwing things, closing lockers, sitting on ledges or tables. And all of them were wearing something different. The orphans stuck out like a sore thumb in their freshly ironed white shirts, ties, plaid skirts and dark blue pants – uniforms that the nuns insisted that they wear. The girls all wore make-up and had straight hair or curled hair or hair so stiffly sprayed in place that it didn't even move in the wind, and all the guys had hair do's that still had the imprints of their combs gelled in, whereas the orphans were as natural as grass- no makeup, no hairspray and definitely no gel.

Faith was extremely embarrassed when she got lost with two other girls from the School – Jessie and Sara- and stumbled into their first class ten minutes after the bell had rung. They were rewarded with giggles from the students, whispers and pointing fingers at their clothes, and three pink detention slips. Worst of all, they all had to sit in the front because those was the only seats left, and their places were stencilled in ink and set to be their assigned places for the rest of the year.

School was strange, so much noise and activities going on all at once that when Faith got called on in class, she couldn't possibly remember the question or the answer and ended up staring at her paper and mumbling an "I don't know", her face flushing bright pink.

The orphans eventually fell into the pulse of normality- leaving early so they had time to change out of their uniforms at school before class, skipping last class to go shopping, eating lunch with people who hadn't lost their parents or been abandoned at some random home, making up excuses about community service to the nuns so they could hang out after school and go to parties.

When Faith was in grade 11, she was invited to go to the beach with a bunch of girls and cute boys. One boy, Sean Walker, who she had a crush on, was going, and so Faith agreed. She had found out early on at school that she was pretty, pretty enough to make boys nudge one another when she walked by, or stare at her in class, and so she thought that she might catch his attention if she were wearing a bikini. She wore shorts and a long sleeve sweatshirt over her bathing suit and they drove out to the beach that Saturday. She was with Sara, Tricia, and Ben from the School, as well as five other girls and boys who loved going to the ocean. The orphans didn't admit it, but none of them had ever been to the beach, and they had no idea what to expect.

It was better than any of them could have imagined- hot sun, white sand and warm, salty water the colour of blue beach glass. They ran to the sand giggling and excited, throwing off their cover clothes and letting their pale skin embrace the sun. The orphans were ecstatic, delighted like children at the sand castles being built, the Frisbees being thrown, the row upon row of people sunbathing, and the sound of waves crashing like Nature herself was applauding them for finally coming out to see Her.

That's when the story went dark and cold.

Everyone at the School, actually nearly everyone at every orphanage that Faith had ever been too, had scars. Faith and Isabella had had the worst for sure, but everyone had them and everyone expected them. Abusive parents, an overly strict nun or a bad orphanage, even a drunk Jolly Rancher- they all contributed to the lines of scarred flesh that were ever present on a parentless child's skin. Faith had never thought her scars to be _ugly_ or _scary_, they were just there, present like her eyes and nose, a part of her that had always been- she had never thought of her life without them.

But that obviously wasn't the case in the real world. When she took off her sweatshirt and pulled her hair up in her fist, about to tie it into a ponytail, she heard a horrendous gasp and she spun, elastic halfway around her knot of hair. Samantha, a blonde whose pretty face was now twisted in disgust, pointed at her.

"Faith!" She half cried, half shrieked. "What are those?"

Everyone in their group twisted to stare at her, and all but the orphans either gasped or looked away, distaste written over their features.

"What?" Faith dropped her hair and let it cover her back as it hit her. Her scars. They were disgusted at her scars. She spun to face the orphans, her eyes crying out for help. Tricia, one of the lucky few who didn't have any scars, had her clothes off and quickly stepped up to Faith, wrapping her arm around Faith's shoulder. Sara stopped taking off her shirt, and Faith remembered the thin scar that wrapped her stomach. Faith felt a warm hand on her shoulder, and looked up to see Ben, the huge African-American orphan looking at her with concern. He sounded confused as he looked at the other kids.

"They're just scars." He said.

"Scars?" A brunette who Faith thought was named Jack blurted. "Her back is like _mutilated!_"

"Sick..." muttered some skimpy blonde who turned her face away.

Faith's face flushed in embarrassment and she turned into Ben for support. Tricia bent down and shook the sand off Faith's sweatshirt; Faith quickly slipped it over her head, hiding behind its soft fabric. The kids were still staring at her as if she had green skin and webbed feet, but Ben's hands on her shoulders made her feel a bit better. She found Sean's eye, and her heart broke when she saw that he, too, looked grossed out. There was no place to look but down; everyone was still staring, waiting for her to explain, but her throat had closed up and though her mind was furiously searching for the right way to say it, she didn't seem to be able to get the words out. Her tongue felt like a dead worm in her mouth, dry, fat and useless.

"Faith..." Samantha took an unsure step up, breaking the circle and the silence. "What happened? What are they...from?"

She swallowed and closed her eyes momentarily, leaning back into Ben because her knees were shaking as the memories overtook her and she felt on the verge of breaking down. _Not here, not now_, she begged herself, and she felt Ben squeeze her shoulders comfortingly.

"When I was a kid, my father beat me." Her voice cracked and she shut her mouth and opened her eyes, unable to say more, scared that she may have said too much.

Now they all had that look on their face, the one that was shocked and sympathetic, but also a bit scared, as if it was asking, _if she went through that much, what did it turn her into? _They still kept their distance, and everything was awkward now.

"C'mon Faith," Ben said, stepping back and letting his hands run down her arms until they met up with her hands. "I'll take you home."

"I'll come too," said Sara, and Tricia nodded.

They left the beach, and Sara hailed a taxi. Tricia was shaking a bit as she pulled her beach dress over her head.

"I can't _believe_ them! They were so rude, and uncaring- ugh, it makes me so _mad!_" Tricia nearly shouted as they were getting into the taxi. Faith didn't say anything, too taken by shock, and she held on tightly to Ben's hand, too shook up to even cry. She closed her eyes, but their disgusted faces were imprinted into her retina and they shone in the blackness. Eyes still closed, she blocked out Sara and Tricia's angry conversation and leaned into Ben, thankful for his strong, silent presence.

Faith blinked, and came back to the present, where she was sitting on a blanket by a bubbly creek, beside Stephen. He was holding her hand, and looked sympathetic, among other emotions traveling his face, his thumb rubbing circles over her knuckles. What had she been saying? Oh yes, Ben.

"And, well after that I never wore a bikini." She laughed a bit.

He smiled, seemingly unsure about the source of the humour. "This Ben, it seems like you two were close?"

"Kind of. He transferred with me to California, we lived in the same orphanage before in New York, and we knew each other, but he always seemed to be nice to me, as I was to him. I figured that he'd been through similar things to me, because that day at the beach, I saw that he had a few scars on his back. He scared some people, but for me he always seemed so _strong_, like a rock that I needed in my life." She looked down, away from Stephen's eyes and realized that all the food was gone.

"Oh." She said. "Sorry, have I been talking long? I kind of lost myself in the story there."

"No, no it's fine." He reassured her and began collecting the containers with her. "I like hearing you talk. Teaches me more about you."

Faith blushed at his gaze and stood up to pack up the basket. They saddled up and began riding again, and Stephen talked her into talking about how she got her house.

"It's so unique, I'm surprised that you found it, in all places, in Cassey." He complimented, and seemed happy when she kept talking about it.

It really was a funny story, because of just how randomly perfect it was. She had been living in San Francisco for over a year when the apartment next to hers caught fire. The fire spread, and half of her home was destroyed before the fire could be contained. Luckily, Faith was at work when it happened, ironically at an art convention whose theme was 'fire'. When she got a call from the fire department, she rushed home to try and salvage her precious artwork. Everything was destroyed. The only art that she had left was what she had sold to galleries, and she couldn't buy it back. Faith went back to the convention on the last day of the weekend, and told some friends there about what had happened.

"At this convention, we had small 'emotion sessions' where we would tell the group about what was going on in our lives right now, and people would give opinions about how we could respond to those problems through art." Faith explained, turning to look at Stephen bouncing up and down on Jeanie.

"There was this one girl named Theresa Wilmington who said that her grandfather was having trouble selling his farm, and that she was going to have to help him out financially so that he could do renovations, because the farmhouse just wouldn't sell. I went up to her afterwards and asked about the house, because I needed a new house, and I was getting tired of apartments anyway."

Turned out the house was in Cassey, an hour away from San Francisco, and didn't really have that much work to do, people just didn't like the style because it was so old. Faith explained her situation and Theresa agreed to let Faith come out and see it.

"It was perfect." Faith remembered with a smile. "Lots of yard, big rooms and windows, great scenery to be painted- there were very few renovations needed to be done, and they were so easy and inexpensive. The price was good too, so I took it." She shrugged and squeezed her legs together, making Link increase his pace a bit.

"Well you certainly did a great job decorating it- it looks very modern."

"Thanks." She smiled at him and after a moment of silence he asked her about her job. She decided to let herself talk, seems how she had been dominating the conversation thus far, and she didn't really feel like asking him if he had any leads on her case, didn't really feel like hearing the same thing again.

And talk she did. They covered all kinds of topics- her job, her boss, the difference between painting and sketching, how she became an artist, and how she succeeded in the art world. Stephen then switched up the conversation and they flipped back and forth answering questions like favourite colour, favourite food, favourite band, favourite smell. It felt good and familiar, like she was still living with him and he was trying to figure all these things out to 'help solve the case'.

"Hey Faith," he turned to look at her after they had a long laugh when Stephen said that his favourite superhero was the power puff girls.

"Yeah?" She could feel Link breathing a bit heavy under her, and realized as she glanced at the sky, that the sun was well below its four o'clock mark. How late was it?

"I was just thinking about what you said about your therapy sessions, about how Dr. Michelle said that the therapists before had fixed you the wrong way. But what if what she is doing is wrong? What if what she's doing is just hurting you too?"

"It's not _hurting_ me, what she is doing is just talking to me, asking me questions that make me really think because I wouldn't normally ask myself that...It feels good, so how can it be doing me bad? And besides, I trust Michelle. I didn't trust the other therapists before." Faith turned Link around so they were facing towards Glenn's barn, and they started to trot home.

"But, you were so young, how do you know? Of course you didn't trust them, your parents had just died and they were interrogating you. But... like, well- what did she say about me?"

Faith blushed, not really wanting to tell him, but know that she had to if she was to make him understand. "She said that you were my way of dealing with the pain. That, because my father didn't love me, I was fulfilling my need for love with you- a physical distraction."

"Ok, see now she is looking at it from a technical stand point, but she is making me look like an object, something that you use and once you're sated, you throw me away. But what we had- what we _felt _- was so much deeper than that, don't you think?"

Faith looked away from Stephen's pleading stare, suddenly confused as her messy emotions boiled to the surface. Of course what they had was _deep_, but the reason why they had it was much simpler; they dated because she needed love. "I don't know Stephen, I'm not an expert in these things, but Michelle is. She's a _doctor_."

He shrugged as if he let it go, but from the conflicting emotions on his face, he was frustrated that he hadn't said what he meant. "Well, maybe what I'm trying to say is that you shouldn't tell Michelle _everything_. Some things just need to stay inside."

Faith realized that they had reached the barn, and Faith waved when she saw Glenn standing outside the doors, glad for an excuse to change the subject. "Glenn!"

"Hey Lovey, how was your ride? You were out for quite a while."

"Oh it was wonderful!" Glenn held his hand out and helped her as she swung down from Link. "I haven't ridden in so long, it was perfect! A fantastic escape."

"Aye, escape is right." He turned to Stephen, who had also dismounted and was holding the reigns, looking a bit lost amid their conversation. "And how about you mate? Did Jeanie treat you right?"

"Yes, she was great. Thank you." Stephen turned to Faith with an eyebrow raised, and she could tell that he was wondering about her earlier comment. His eyes sparkled quizzically, as if to wonder about her escape. From who? To what?

Faith couldn't answer his eyes, because thinking deep she honestly didn't know. From her house? Her job? The case? Dr. Michelle?

Faith gasped and covered her mouth with one hand as she thought about Michelle. Her appointment! "What time is it?" She asked, turning to Glenn.

"Oh, around quarter to six."

She gasped and spun to Stephen. "I had an appointment with Dr. Michelle at two! I totally forgot!"

He gave Glenn Jeanie's reigns. "Take Link back home, I'll walk back and meet you at the house, so you can phone her."

"Nonsense!" cried Glenn. "You take Jeanie, store her with Link and I'll pick her up later."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure as pumpkin pie at Thanksgivin' son, go!"

With hurried thanks, Faith jumped up on Link and, with Stephen hard on her heels, raced to her house. She got to her barn in just five minutes, and quickly tied the reigns up on the fence. Bursting through her front door, she grabbed her wall phone and saw, in dismay, four missed calls- three from Michelle, one unknown. She clicked the re-dial button and Michelle picked up on the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Michelle! I'm so sorry, I was out riding and I lost track of time. Can we reschedule my appointment?"

"Faith! Oh dear, no need to be sorry, I understand completely. Do you ride often?"

"I used to, but not recently, since the, umm, incident."

"Well then, riding is good for you, good for the healing. Now, you said earlier that you had a weird dream? If you like, we can talk about it now, I have time."

"Oh, well... I," _Some things just need to stay inside_... She paused, conflicting within herself. Would it really hurt not to tell? "I forget my dream." She finished lamely. "It slipped my mind after I woke up."

"Oh." Michelle sounded disappointed, and Faith was about to change her mind and explain what she had seen, but Michelle carried on in her usual up-beat tone. "Well then, I guess I'll see you in a couple weeks for our monthly check-up. Is there anything else that you wanted to tell me?"

_But what if what she's doing is wrong? What if what she's doing is just hurting you too? _

Faith told her no, and after a quick goodbye, hung up. Then she remembered the strange man's face, and how his expression changed from angry to nice in a few strokes of her eraser. Her hand stilled on the phone though, and she shook her head and walked back outside, to where she could see Stephen brushing Link down outside of the barn. Faith smiled.

Some things just needed to stay inside.


	37. Chapter 36

**CHAPTER 36**

Jane Reld worked in a small little labratory on the second floor of the police department. The police department consisted of four main parts: the offices, the weapons, the jail, and the Lab. The bottom floor had the weapons and the jail, which was really only five large cells that usually stayed empty unless it had been an unusually wild Friday night, and even then the delinquents only stayed for one night. The weapons section was part evidence and part artillery. Any weapon used in a previous crime or any other physical evidence, like clothing, casts from shoeprints and tire tracks, and miscellaneous things found on the scene were stored in a room in the weapons section. The other rooms had ballistics, a shooting room with a dummy on stand in center, where, in theory, an officer could shoot the dummy and record the results, to see if a certain gun or angle fit with the crime, but nothing exciting like that every happened in Cassey, so the room was mainly used for shooting practice. And, finally, an additional room had pepper spray, bullet-proof vests, tazers, and flashlights for the officers.

The office section was a large foyer styled room with smaller, adjoining rooms standing off to the side. The foyer, as the officers called it, had twelve cubicles that the officers individually 'owned', and a small coffee stand on the east side. Adjoining was two interrogation rooms, three meeting rooms, and the Case Room. The Case Room was full of filing cabinets and bookshelves that held old cases, so old that they hadn't been plugged into one of the three computers that also sat along the wall. Any case that happened after 1960 was in the computers on a main database, anything older was in the cabinets and shelves. These held paper- crime scene photos, autopsy results, witness testimonies, case reports, reports from victims, officers and other people related to the crime and, hopefully, the criminal who committed the crime.

The Lab was just what its name implied- a large Lab that sat off the office section, complete with glass windows, white floors, and lockers full of white aprons. It had two stainless steel tables with sinks attached- called autopsy tables, but rarely used as such. They were used to put evidence on and study it from all angles. On the side was a long, wall-length table that held two microscopes and a computer. The computer had all kinds of programs and information about the science part of forensics- fingerprints, types and signs of poison, pictures of edges of all kinds of weapons for comparison, and DNA samples. Jane Reld worked here along with her student, a bright young boy named Foster. Jane Reld used to work in San Fransisco, but retired to Cassey after twenty years of murder and rape, deciding instead to work on the small town aspect of things.

Stephen had given her the little, blue thread on Monday and now, Wednesday, he hoped that she knew what it was. Bright, early, and 8:00 sharp, he grabbed a cup of coffee from the stand in the office section and entered the Lab. Through a fat glass wall, he could see the silver autopsy tables gleaming in the white light, and knocked on the door on the opposite wall: Jane's office. He entered after a muffled, "Come in!" and closed the door behind him, smiling at the woman bent over her desk.

Her head, a mass of curly dark brown hair with a few bits of grey streaked through the ringlets, was covering a piece of bone that she was looking at through a magnifying glass. She looked up, magnifying glass still pressed against her eye, making it a hundred times bigger than it should be. "Stephen Lightridge!" She cried, setting the glass on the table, and standing up in greeting. "What do I owe the pleasure?"

"I was just wondering if you'd had time to look at that thread that I gave you."

"Yes, yes!" She cried and stepped around the desk. "I looked at it, and researched what I found, and I know what it is. Cotton!" Lifting things from her haphazard shelves, she retrieved an evidence bag, and a sheet of paper taped to its surface. She handed the bag and paper to Stephen, who bent to read the paper. Jane kept talking.

"There's your little, blue thread. It is ninety-eight percent cotton, two percent polyester. I traced it around to local stores and stuff, and turns out it probably came from a men's blue tie shirt, because of thread count and such, and that it was expensive." Stephen looked up from the words that said as much, only in much more confusing, scientific words, and Jane winked at him.

"Whoever this belonged too is probably a rich man who wears blue shirts under his suit and tie."

Stephen thought back to ACSI. Witson. He was rich and he wore suits, probably expensive ones, everyday.

Mind still on Witson, he thanked Jane and left the Lab, sitting in his cubicle and holding the bag, mind running through all alternatives. After a few minutes, he went to the meeting room that still had his theory-fact octopus scrawled on the white board. He started another couple theories, then stepped back to let it all flow through his head. He stared at what he had wrote.

Fact: Blue thread was found in stamped footprint

Theory: Alex tried to destroy the evidence because he is working for Witson

Fact: Blue thread is from an expensive, blue shirt.

Theory: Thread is from one of Witson's employees, paid to discard of Tanner's body.

Stephen knew that Witson wouldn't personally hide the body; he was too wealthy for that. Instead, he would use some of his hired help, someone stupid enough to hide it right behind their building, but strong enough to get the job done. Was he still alive? Or had Witson killed him too, for messing up on the placement of Tanner's body? Stephen sat down at the meeting table and rested his head on his fist. He hadn't seen anyone at the ACSI that fit the profile, but then again, he had only seen three people at the interview. Then he remembered the scrawny kid, and sat up straighter. He had been wearing a blue dress shirt and a tie. Maybe they had a uniform? No, he reprimanded himself, it's not a restaurant, it's an office. Everyone wears dress shirts to work.

And then suddenly, and idea sprung into his head. It was risky, he supposed, but he knew that it was the only thing that he could do. He could lose his job, could get the whole department suspended, not to mention Gregory. He tapped the white board marker against the table as he further perfected his plan, and then checked the clock. Great time to go buy some coastline exotic goods, he thought.

Besides, he thought, even if it didn't work, at least he tried. At least he was one step closer to helping Faith. Because, in the long run that was all that really mattered. Helping Faith, and keeping her safe.

Everything, even his career and the careers of his fellow co-workers, paled in comparison to helping Faith.


	38. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

"So, what did you do yesterday?" Alex held her hand in his, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, scarily similar to the way that Stephen had held her hand yesterday.

"I went riding." She said and pulled her hand back when the waitress brought their coffee, grateful for a chance to take her hand away. The similarities between Alex and Stephen were unnerving her.

"By yourself? Is that dangerous for a person in your position?"

"What do you mean?" Faith took a sip of coffee, and felt Alex's foot graze her own.

"Well, you were under security in Stephen's house for two weeks. And the day that you get back, you go out by yourself in an open field? Pretty risky if you ask me." His foot was rubbing over hers and on the side, making Faith's stomach flip-flop around and her heart beat fast. She was so distracted by the footsy game, she forgot to mince what she was about to say.

"I wasn't alone though, Stephen was with me." She knew that as soon the words were out, there was no going back. Alex's foot stilled and his brow narrowed.

"Stephen?"

Faith was about to say something about police protection, when she stopped herself. She didn't need to explain herself. "Yeah. He was free, so I asked him to come over."

"But Faith," He paused, and reached out with both hands to cup her hands that were wrapped around her coffee cup. "You're dating _me_."

"It wasn't a _date._ We are friends. We were just hanging out."

"You mean the guy that yelled at you, invaded your privacy by yelling in your face and digging into your past, especially into those files, is your _friend?_"

She sighed. "Look, I know it sounds complicated, but I lived with him for two weeks. It's hard to break that kind of connection." Faith shrugged, wanting to change the subject. Alex's hands were squeezing hers a bit too tightly. "It's not that big of a deal, anyway. We didn't do anything. Just rode."

"Faith, I don't know if I want you hanging out with Stephen while we're dating."'

"What?" She pulled her hands and coffee mug away from his, shocked.

"I know that you guys used to be together, and now that you're not, well I don't trust him. Look, I work with him, I know how he is. He just wants action, and he uses people for information. The way he used you just to get information for the case. He's a workaholic."

"And what do _you _want me for? Something other than action?"

He looked shocked. "Faith, I care about you. I'm trying to help you-"

"Yeah, well that's what Stephen said to me too! So, how do I know that you really mean it? Huh? Sure, he wanted information from me, but he did it to help me. He did it because he _cared about me_." Her voice had risen loud and some people were glancing at their table.

Alex didn't seem to care, now he was just plain angry. "You really believe all that crap he sold you?"

"It's the same crap that you're selling me now! At least Stephen actually _listened_ to me, all you do is talk about how much you want to _help_ me, but you never stop to hear about what I need help with!"

"Stephen doesn't care about you! If he did, he would've come after you in the woods after his father insulted you, or he would've at least said something nice to you when you got back. But he didn't, did he? What did he do?" Faith was looking away, and he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. His grip hurt. "What did he do?"

She ripped her face from his hands and stood up. "The same thing that you are doing right now!" She took and angry breath and shook her head. "I should've known, you police officers are all the same, all trying to save the world. You might think that you are something special, but _you and Stephen are exactly the same!_"

She stormed out of the coffee house, leaving staring customers and an angry Alex in her wake. Getting to her car, she sat down and slammed the door. She put her head in her hands and took a deep breath. Why did she always have to fight with the guys who she cared about?

She drove out and back to her house, taking the long way so she could cool down. How dare he? Who did he think he was, telling her who she could and couldn't hang out with? She wasn't fifteen anymore, she could take care of herself.

Her house rose up ahead of her, large and looming, almost menacing in its magnitude. An apple pie sat on her front step with a note from Ariel, saying: _Dear Faith, I was thinking about you today, so I made you some pie! Hope you love it! 3 _Faith put the pie in the fridge and wandered around her house for a few minutes until she sank into her couch and decided to occupy her mind. She spent the rest of the day doing chores and cleaning the house. It sorely needed it. It still had fingerprint dust in the living room, and the floors were filthy. She vacuumed, dusted and cleaned the bathrooms. After her cleaning spree, she did a full on clean-up of the kitchen, and made herself some supper. Feeling depressed, she put on _The Notebook_ and curled up on her couch with a cup of tea and a slice of the apple pie. She still felt restless, and so she took out the movie once her tea was done and went to her desk, pulling out a sketchbook. The face that formed on her paper was dark, hopeless and cryptic, and as hard as she tried, Faith could not figure out what he was trying to tell her.

Stephen strode into the ACSI and could swear that Marie Sullivan rolled her eyes at her desk across the room. He slapped a piece of paper on her desk, making her glance up at him in surprise, as if to say _– you actually have something meaningful for me?_ She pulled the paper closer to her so she could read it and flipped it over so it wasn't upside down. Her eyes widened.

"There is a warrant saying that I am allowed to question whomever I wish to in this facility."

"Yes, I can read English Mr. Lightridge." She had that smug, obvious tone on again. Darn, he thought. He was hoping the warrant would humble her a bit.

"We have deducted that from the footprints found on the scene of Mr. Tanner's body, the man who carried him there was around six feet tall, two-hundred-and-fifty pounds that is mostly muscle, and probably Caucasian or African-American. Can you tell me if you employ anyone who fits that description?"

She looked surprised, but seemed determined not to show it; her eyes widened ever so slightly at his words, but she leaned back in her chair nonchalantly, as if she didn't care that a police officer was standing in front of her. "Oui. We work in the _shipping_ industry, Monsieur Lightridge. Many men who we employ must be built tall and strong in order to stock and unload trucks."

He had anticipated this, of course, and shot back an answer. "Yes, but do you know of anyone like that who works in the office part of the building?"

She bit her lip, and actually looked like she might answer him, when her phone rang. She glanced at it unsurely.

"Are you gonna get that?" Stephen asked.

Marie picked up the phone and spoke into her end for about a minute, with many muttered "oui" and "yes, of course." She put down the phone and glanced up at him, seemingly surprised that he was still there.

"Well, I can tell that you aren't going to be of much help, Marie, so I'm gonna take a look around the office, see if there's anyone who fits my profile."

"No sir, you cannot-"

"Ah, ah, ah Marie." He grabbed the warrant from her desk and waved it a bit. "I've got the judge's approval. I'm allowed to talk to _anyone_."

Stephen left Marie pouting in a _very _subtle stare-at-my-manicure-until-Lightridge-leaves kind of way, and walked down the hall, towards where he had had his meeting with Witson. He peered across the room, over all the cubicles, searching for someone extremely tall and strong. He saw the skinny kid that he ran into before, a red head, and an obese blonde, but no tall, white, dumb guys. He turned to go and came face-to-face with a light blue dress shirt and black tie. Stephen glanced up and saw a tall, strong jawed man. Bingo.

"Officer, you have no authorization to come into this office. I'm going to have ask you to leave."

Stephen held up his warrant, hoping that the man was either as dumb as theorized, or impatient like Marie and hadn't actually tried to read all of it. He was right. The guy just stared at it like it was in Chinese. "What's that supposed to be?"

"It's a warrant that says that I am legally allowed to talk to anyone in this office. In the office, not at the police station."

"Oh. Ok, I guess you don't have to go then." He straightened his shoulders and took a step back from Stephen. "Is there anyone in particular that you are looking for?"

"I'm actually just looking around." Stephen noticed that there was a small rip in the right cuff of the man's dress shirt. Could it be? "I'm Stephen Lightridge." He stuck out his hand and the man took it. His hand was rough and callused, unusual for a man who should be spending his days on a computer. The shirt was stiff as Stephen's hand passed over it when he let go of his hand.

"Shane." Stephen eyed the man up and down, taking mental notes on his foot size, weight and height. It seemed to fit the bill.

"Well, Shane, it seems that I've seen everything that I need to, so I'll be going now. Thanks for all your help."

Shane nodded him and Stephen turned to go, passing by Marie on the way out and giving her a salute. He breathed a deep breath of relief as he passed through the doors, safe. He sat down in his truck, and stared at the fake warrant with a grin. The thing had been printed off of some legal fan site that offered printable examples of warrants to show classes in school. If Marie hadn't been so lazy, or Shane so dumb, they could've read closer and see that it didn't say Cassey or ACSI anywhere, or anything that even related to them.

He crumpled up the warrant, and threw it aside, then lifted up the key to his victory in his fist. It caught some sun in the light, making it seem a bit lighter than it actually was. But it still symbolized the same thing as before. Success. An end to the case. And it was all his for the taking.

A small, slightly unravelled blue thread.


	39. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

Faith was walking, her feet carrying her farther into the mouth of a dark, shadowy forest.

Tall, willowy trees lined the edge of a mulch path. By their ashy bark and black leaves, she guessed that they were dead. Their pallid bark was twisted into howling faces lined with pain. She flinched and jumped away as a branch cracked and fell onto the path, chips of cedar flying out away from the intrusion. Her face felt cold and her hands were clenched.

"Faith…" A woman's hollow voice echoed in the wind. All of the leaves fluttered, some of them sprinkling the ground, others being swept off in an ebony wave across the eastern sky where the glimmers of a sunrise kissed the skeleton hills. She turned her head in the direction of the voice, seeking refuge.

"Faith…" The voice was louder and laced with panic and pain. It nudged buried memories to the surface of her mind and she saw a blink of her mother's face. Her heart ached and she stopped walking.

Faith felt a need to go home. Suddenly, all she wanted was to see her mother's face again- her real, live face, not the patches that wavered in her mind every time she squeezed her eyes shut. She took a few steps, and then there was a house, gleaming in the moonlight and liberating her from the dead forest. She rushed forward, grateful to be free from the ominous trees.

She opened the door wide and there stood her mother with her back to the door, realer than she had remembered in a long time. Faith smiled and put a hand on her mother's shoulder. She turned around, only it wasn't her mother, it was Stephanie, her nurse and maid at the Abbey.

"Faith!" Stephanie was angry; her eyes glittered dangerously. "Where have you been? I was so worried!"

That made Faith angry. She clenched her hands into fists by her sides and glared at Stephanie. Years of hate and neglect bubbled into Faith's head. Darth's words danced on the edge of the memories and Faith shook her head in rage. "You don't care about me!" Faith took a step away from Stephanie. She looked around and saw that now they were in the kitchen at the Abbey.

"Faith, I love you." Stephanie was confused.

Faith laughed bitterly. "That's what they all say! They 'love' me and 'care' about me, but as soon as a different foster parent comes, they give me up in a blink and never look back."

"I'm different, honey. I love you." Faith shook her head, and when she looked up Stephanie's face had become Stephen.

"Faith, please just trust me. I care about you. I want to be your friend." He reached out.

"You don't give a damn about me!" Faith slapped his hand away. "You've never cared about me and never will. No one ever has!"

"Faith-" Her name on his lips brought forth a wave of despair and she panicked, not wanting to see his beautiful eyes shine in pain, but too proud and broken to accept his lies as reality.

"Shut up! No! You don't love me! You liar!" She was frantic suddenly, her words slurring and her eyes glazing over with tears.

"Faith." Stephen's voice was sharp and unfamiliar, and when she blinked her tears away, it was her father. He grabbed her wrist and squeezed.

"Stop! Ow, you're hurting me!" Faith gasped and tried to pry his clenched fingers from her bruised wrist. The scars that were usually white and stretched now split open and blood spilled out over his thick hand.

"Worthless brat," Darth muttered and shoved her to the ground. "You don't know what I've been through!" He shouted and kicked her. "You don't know what I've done for you!"

Faith tried to get up and run, but she found that she was tied around the wrists to a wooden wall. She looked up and saw a wooden door. She was surrounded.

Sharp fingernails dug into her back and Faith arched her back and screamed. She tried to rip her hands from the restraints, but they were too tight; too stretched and taunt to provide any room to twist away from the pain that nearly blinded her, making her gasp and fight for air. The fingernails raked across her back, opening wounds and tearing scabs. Faith screamed louder.

"Stop! Please!" Faith shouted above the hot pain. Her blood drummed in her ears.

"Everything I do, I do because _I love you_. You don't know how much I care about you, you unforgiving, selfish brat." Darth's haunting voice whispered in her ears.

"No!" Faith screamed and the pain in her throat was elfin compared to the onslaught going down on her back. The fingernails finally came out, taking precious bits of skin with them.

She could smell the blood, feel it streaming down her shoulders and arms and dripping off her fingers. Her chin fell and in the reflection of the blood pooling on the floor, she could see her father's crazed, intoxicated eyes.

Suddenly the eyes flashed green and she was looking at Stephen.

She was in his arms and his lips were on hers. The pain was gone, replaced by a deep passion. They were on his couch, his arms around her waist and her hands clasped behind his neck. He cradled her like a precious treasure and she felt safe. She could feel his hand rubbing her back, tracing her scars. She wanted to pull away, didn't want him to feel her faults. But then her hands were twisting around his hair and his lips were tickling the hollow of her neck and for a few precious seconds, she felt that everything was okay.

His hands tightened around her and his kissed became more desperate and she clung to him because she was loved and Stephen was here to protect her. She was burning up in the blaze of passion in his eyes and all she wanted was to stop time and stay like that forever. She could feel it in the pressure of his hands and the softness of his lips that he wanted her; in his eyes and his irregular breathing, in the rapid thump-thump of his heart pounding against her chest, as if that was all he'd ever need and-

Faith sat up suddenly, her eyes flying open and her pencil flying from her hand. She put a hand to her heart, as if that would stop the crazy tune it was drumming, and took a deep breath. She glanced at her sketch book lying on her desk. A long, dark line scarred it`s face from when she had sat up and threw her pencil.

She had fallen asleep.

Faith's mind flew, trying to grasp the escaping tails of her dream. Her father's face flashed in her head and Faith absentmindedly rubbed her bumpy wrists. She sighed and leaned back in her chair.

She quickly put her pencils away and closed her sketchbook, pulling out the ruined one and crumpling it into her garbage. A glance at the clock made her blink. 2:13 a.m. Surprised that she wasn`t tired, Faith settled on the couch with a cup of tea that she`d made in a trancelike state and a small pad of paper. Drawing helped her think, and her mind was still reeling.

She pulled her legs up and began throwing lines onto the paper, putting all of her restlessness into the pencils. Faith sipped her tea and snuggled into the cushions. She balanced a few pencils on her knees within easy reach and stared at her scribbled lines. Why, so soon after Alex, was she dreaming about Stephen? And what was it about that night that felt wrong, or mis-thought? She could still feel his arms around her, still taste his breath on her lips. Faith shook away the thoughts and vivid images and sketched a few more lines.

Something nagged at the back of her head. She recalled the dream, savoring Stephen for last. She grabbed a different pencil and tried to pull her random lines into a picture. She smiled, tired enough to be amused as they formed two mouths as one in a tender kiss. Another sip of tea, another few scribbles. There was something was wrong, something that didn't belong or that she hadn't realized before but had somehow come into focus during her dream. She skipped the part about Darth and focused on Stephen.

As she glanced up at the words that she'd sketched at the top of the page- _Everything I do, I do because I love you; You don't know what I've been through, you don't know what I've done for you_-it suddenly hit her. Stephen had rubbed her back, she'd wanted to pull back, but she hadn't left because she felt loved and protected, he kissed her and hugged her tighter.

Faith cocked her head and twirled the pencil in her hands. But he had kissed her… Which meant that he had been telling the truth, that he would love her no matter what. Which meant that he did care about her! She sat up quickly, spilling her balanced pencils across the floor. She bent to pick them up.

Stephen wasn't a liar; he really did love her. She had been afraid to tell him about Darth because she didn't want him to get scarred or disgusted and leave her. Because he was the only one that made her feel loved, she couldn't bear the thought of have him leave her. She didn't trust herself to be able to deal with a broken heart if he did leave; she trusted him and had given him her heart a long time ago.

An image from her dream popped into her head as she was walking into her room. She crawled into bed, realization dawning. Faith scrunched her eyebrows and leaned back into the pillows. She closed her eyes and tried to piece together her doubts.

Stephen loved Faith.

Faith loved Stephen.

And it wasn't just because he loved and cared and protected her; wasn't just because he had felt her scars and didn't leave; it wasn't even because of the way he had kissed her and held her up against him.

It was because after and while they were kissing, when he had ran a hand down her back and traced her scars, he hadn't flinched back in disgust. He still loved her for her past. And, whereas a different guy would've stopped comforting her because of her scars and lifted his hand, maybe even politely changed the position that he was holding her, and kept kissing her, but still wouldn't have been able to handle her pain, Stephen did the exact opposite.

He had kept on rubbing.


	40. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

Stephen made his way through the Lab for the third time that week and knocked on Jane's door. The same muffled "come in" and the same bent head greeted him, and this time the eyes were even bigger with surprise. "Stephen Lightridge!" She cried and shook his hand with two quick pumps. "What do I owe the pleasure?"

"You know that blue thread I gave you?" She nodded. Obviously. What other work had she had to do since yesterday? "I found a thread that I think is a match. Could you do a comparison?"

"Sure, lemme see it." He handed a plastic evidence bag over to her, looking nearly identical to the one she had been handling yesterday, aside from the evidence number stamped on its front. Even still, they were only separated by one digit. "I can do a comparison now, if you'd like."

It was better than he'd hoped for. "Yeah, if you have time."

"All the time in the world, son." She led him through the hall and into the room closed off by glass. Everything was shiny and white, with stainless steel equipment and freshly sterilized table-tops. It even smelled clean.

Jane put on a pair of goggles, tied her hair back, and snapped a pair of latex gloves on. She pulled the thread from the bag with tweezers and a steady hand, stuck it on a slide and under one side of a comparison microscope, which let you look at two things side by side, to compare. Stephen had to run over to the office to get the other thread, which, when he returned, was set side by side with thread number two. Blue thread and blue thread were stared at through those plastic goggles for about five minutes, accompanied by the occasional murmur of agreement between Jane and herself, while Stephen rocked back on his heels and prayed for a break. _Please God, we've worked so hard for this…_

Jane straightened and shot him a grin. "It's a match."

After Stephen had given Walton the 'positive match' form that Jane typed up for him and Walton had whooped and ran out the door to the courthouse to get a warrant, Stephen called up Ariel.

"Hey, Stephen." She sounded tired.

"Ariel, guess what?"

"What?"

"We've got a warrant."

Ariel shouted on the other line, sounding surprisingly similar to Walton. "How'd you do it? What'd you find?"

Stephen explained the pictures, his suspicion with Alex, and the first little, blue thread. He skipped the part about the fake warrant, and instead said that he shook hands with Shane and pulled loose a thread when he wasn't looking. They were a perfect match.

"So, we have a suspect who is tied to the scene? That's almost cause for an arrest."

"Actually, Walton said that it was cause for arrest. He had Jane pour dental stone into the footprint that he thread was in and it was a size twelve, which looks to be the same size as Shane's feet."

"Not Alex?"

"No, Alex is like a ten. When we go in to arrest Shane, first we have to ask his shoe size, then we can take him down."

"Can I come?"

"I was wondering when you were gonna ask."

"So that's a yes then?"

"Definitely."

Ariel promised to be there in ten minutes, and Stephen sat down in the meeting room. He stared at his diagram and theories for a few minutes before deciding to erase everything involving Alex. He obviously wasn't involved in the murder; he was rookie and had forgotten to take pictures of everything. Besides, it was his first murder; he was probably as shaken up as anyone.

Ariel arrived, and they had a quick celebration shout before they sat down. "Wow, I can't believe that you were right!" She shot him a grin and continued in her amazed voice. "I mean, I'm pretty sure none of us believed in your little ACSI theory, and yet, here we are."

"It was just too coincidental to not be suspicious," Stephen said.

Ariel scanned his white board and looked back at him with a raised brow. "No Alex?"

"Nah, I'm pretty sure he's just a rookie. Rookie's make mistakes." Stephen shrugged.

"Speak of the devil," Ariel muttered as Alex walked past the doorway.

Alex leaned his head in. "Hey guys, what's up?"

"Stephen solved the Tanner case." Ariel grinned again.

"Really?" Alex stepped in and took a seat. "How?"

Stephen did a quick re-run of the double blue threads, and how they matched. "Walton is out getting the warrant as we speak. Those guys will be in jail before suppertime." Ariel lifted her palm, and Stephen high-fived her.

Alex looked impressed. "Well, congratulations!" He looked down at his watch. "You said that Walton was out?" At their nod, he stood up. "Well, I think that I'm going to take a long lunch, ok? Can you tell him when he gets back?"

They agreed, and Alex left. Ariel turned back to Stephen. "Still get a weird feeling with him."

"Yeah." Stephen shrugged. "I don't think that'll ever go away."

Stephen walked into the ACSI with one hand on his gun, the other holding the warrant. He walked into the reception and didn't even look at Marie as he strode down the hallway to the room full of cubicles. He heard another cop talking to her in a stern voice as she shrilly yelled at them to stop. Everyone in the cubicles stopped their work and spun to the sound of the officers. They were all equally shocked at the four policemen and Ariel that surrounded them, stone faced and scary.

"I am looking for an employee named Shane Leverl." Stephen announced in a loud, clear voice. One employee pointed toward Witson's office, and the officers filed that way. Reaching the door, Stephen rapped loudly before swinging it open onto a glaring Culvis and blind-staring Shane. Culvis's glare softened and his mouth gaped when he saw Stephen and the rest of his entourage.

Stephen walked up and stared straight at Shane. "Shane Leverl, what size of shoes do you wear?"

"Twelve." Shane looked unsurely at Culvis after he answered, as if he knew that he'd made a mistake.

"Shane Leverl and Culvis Witson, you are hereby under arrest for the association and murder of Bob Tanner."

Faith's day flew by in a blur, as if she were in some crazed dream. She knew it wasn't really a dream because she'd pinched herself four times earlier when she thought about her love again, and yet she'd stayed in reality. She'd realized that morning that she loved Stephen. And that he wasn't a liar- he could handle her past. A few hours after, she had lain in bed and stared at the ceiling. Later, when she was wandering her house and trying to make sense of these odd feelings, she had reached a conclusion.

Faith needed to tell Stephen.

Stephen deserved to be loved, she'd decided. And maybe she was the one to do it. Somehow, she would be able to push the past away and hopefully Stephen could forgive her. Her father was dead and that was that. Darth had no right to destroy anymore of her relationships. Faith wouldn't let him.

Faith fell into a confused sleep sometime that morning. She woke at noon in a collapsed straggle on the floor beside the couch, eager and hopeful to see Stephen's shining eyes. She was about to run out the door when she stopped herself. Stephen was at work. Faith couldn't just rush into the office and interrupt justice. Calling would do no good either. _Hi, this is Faith. Is Stephen in? I'm just calling to tell him about my crazy dream and how it made me realize that I am madly in love with him. _

She decided to surprise him at home that night.

Faith floated through the house, mindlessly cleaning, which was hard since she'd cleaned yesterday, trying to pass the time. She tried to settle down and read a book, but her brain was buzzing and after she'd read the same sentence five times, she grasped that she couldn't focus for the life of her. She baked cookies. She cleaned all of her bathrooms, organized a few closets, put up those shelves she'd been meaning to hang for weeks, dusted her chandelier. She put all her energy into these efforts and they were finished so quickly, she soon had to discover new dirty corners to thrust her hands into.

She vacuumed every room and dusted every shelf. The floor was looking splotchy, so she set to it with a bucket of water and a rag. Like Cinderella. Yes, she was slaving away in a brute torture, waiting for her prince to get home. After she'd scrubbed for an hour, she thought that maybe it was just the sun making the floor look spotty. Stephen deserved a gift, she decided as she dumped the suds.

She baked a blueberry pie, his favourite, and added extra sugar. Half a dozen outfits were laid out while it baked and they were all replaced with ten more while it cooled. When she ran out of rooms to clean and furniture to fluff, which is a hard thing to accomplish, given her expansive home, she sat on her couch and stared without seeing at her bookshelves. The titles were driving her insane, so she put them in alphabetical order by author. Then by title. Then she colour coordinated their spines. She mildly wondered if she was suffering from O.C.D.

At four, she decided that Stephen was going to be home at five. If he wasn't, then Faith was going to march down to that police station and beg him to forgive her. On her knees. She eagerly ran into her room and changed into a green dress. Standing in the bathroom and wincing at her hair, she decided that she really should shower. Faith ducked her head into the next room. She still had an hour.

Before she jumped under the hot water, she realized that it was raining outside. No, not raining, but pouring in huge, thick sheets. A finger of lightning split the sky and thunder shrieked. The storm was close and electricity was in the air. The sky, the land, the clouds and even the trees just outside- everything was black.

She reached just outside the bathroom and clicked on the fan before locking the door. A thought sounded, a query as to why the builders had put the light-switch outside of the bathroom. Someone could turn off the lights while she was showering. Good grief! It was a misplaced fear that always made Faith pause before she showered. Why would someone turn her light off anyway? There wasn't even anyone here!

Faith washed away her odd thoughts with the shampoo. The hot water felt good, but the thought of Stephen felt even better. She turned off the water and wrapped herself in her robe. She didn't bother unlocking the door, just started pulling drawers and working her magic. Faith tried not to spend too much time on her appearance- Stephen was waiting! But she did want to look nice, Stephen deserved as much, and settled on curling her hair after a quick blow-dry.

_Oh dear Stephen…I am so sorry._ How could she ever doubt his love and sincerity? Because of something his father had done? She would certainly hate to have _her _father's sins pinned on her. And then to just leave him for Alex! She was such a terrible person. He had loved her wholeheartedly, and then she's spit it back in his face for something that wasn't his fault. He wasn't responsible for Tom's words. Why had she held him accountable? After all he'd done for her: saving her from Tanner, protecting her in his house, being her friend and loving her. And she had left him for that pig Alex!

Even now, fourteen years later, her past was still haunting her! Whoever wanted her killed was doing so because of Darth. Well, sort of. Indirectly. Actually, it was her fault. If she had let Tanner kill her, he wouldn't be dead. Whoever had killed_ him_ would go to any lengths to end_ her_ life. And why? They wanted her money, she supposed. And, once again, it was Darth's fault. If he hadn't been selling drugs, her mother might still be alive and Faith wouldn't be so rich. Isabella would be alive too. They would be a happy family, and she would never have been caught up in this mess.

Faith cocked her head at a new thought. But if Tanner hadn't attacked her, then she wouldn't have met Stephen. And she wouldn't be leaning into the mirror with a mascara brush up against her eyelashes, preparing to see the boy she was in love with. Stephen.

If not for her father, Faith's heart wouldn't be pounding out of control at the thought of Stephen's green eyes or his tousled curls. It was a cruel irony. Yes, her father had killed her family and her childhood. Mostly. But yes, if he hadn't, then she wouldn't be in love. And her life wouldn't be rapidly ascending as the clock ticked closer to her seeing-

Suddenly, Faith was immersed in black. Her arm jerked, sending her mascara up her face, leaving a long black line on her forehead. Probably. Faith couldn't see; the power had gone out. She took a deep breath to steady her heart and put down her mascara. She pulled her robe tighter as she tried to remember where a flashlight could be. She could just use the emergency lights as a guide to the kitchen, surely there was one in a drawer somewhere-

Faith froze. The emergency lights.

Thunder boomed and Faith's head snapped up. When she had bought the house, one of its prized features had been battery-powered lights in every room designed to snap on as soon as the power went out. Including the bathrooms.

Faith's heart skipped a beat and her forehead beaded with sweat. Why weren't the emergency lights coming on? Were they dead? No, she had never used them because the power hadn't gone out before. And even if she did use them, she remembered the realtor explaining how when the power came back on again, they instantly began recharging off the returning power. A flashing red light blinked at the edge of her vision. Her head snapped around to find it's source. Her straightening iron was still on. So was her curler. Which could only mean…

Faith shook her head slowly, refusing to believe it. All the doors were locked, right? Had she been so preoccupied with cleaning that she'd forgotten to lock the front door? No, no of course not. She wasn't that forgetful. Who would forget to lock their front door?

_Someone who was so in love that she couldn't even focus on the simple task of reading a book?_

` Faith blinked and closed her eyes. Not that it mattered, it was still black either way. She opened her eyes and took a shaky breath.

Her straightening iron was on.

Her emergency lights were not.

The power had not gone off.

The light switch was on the other side of the locked door…

Faith bit her lip and turned to the door- where she guessed the door was- , praying for it to stay silent. Her fears bit her and she flinched.

Someone had turned off the light.

Someone was inside her house.

Someone was on the other side of the door.

Faith almost gasped as she heard a creaking noise. She swore she could see movement in the blackness: a flash of a silver knob, the reflection from the storm outside. Taking a step back, Faith winced as the floor cracked under her foot. The noise sent a shiver down her back and she hugged herself, regretting not getting dressed. A robe wouldn't be very helpful in fighting for her life. The sound got a bit louder as the movement slowed.

Someone was turning the doorknob.


	41. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

Stephen spent the rest of the day alternating between interrogating Witson and Leverl before he finally got a break. After he had sat down at the table for the third time and stared across the space at Shane's blank stare, he decided to pull out the little blue thread.

He slid the bag across the table and let Shane flatten the plastic with his thumb and squinted at the thread inside.

"You see that little, blue thread?" Stephen asked him. Shane nodded, but didn't lift his head. "Ok, now look at this one." Another thread in a small evidence bag slid across the table to Shane, and he repeated his flatten-bag-with-thumb-and-squint gesture. "Can you tell me what's different about them?"

"This one's longer." Shane pointed to the first thread.

"But other than that, they look identical, am I right?" Shane nodded.

"Let me tell you why." Stephen grabbed both bags and held them up on either side of his head. "This one," He shook the first one. "And this one," Another shake. "Are from the same shirt. A blue dress shirt, to be exact. The same one that you are now wearing."

Shane glanced down at himself in confusion. "So?"

"This thread," He set the first one on the table again and slid it to the center. "Was found in the ground beside Tanner's dead body, in a footprint that is the same size as your feet. Now, this thread," He put thread number two beside the first one. "I pulled off you during our little handshake. It matches perfectly with that shirt. Which means that we know that you were there, we know that you carried Tanner's body from the ACSI and dumped him behind shop, and we know that you saw this thread and tried to stamp it away to hide it."

Shane's eyes widened and he pulled back from his bent position of studying the threads, as if they were poisonous.

"Now," Stephen continued. "We don't have enough evidence to prove that you killed Tanner, but we know that you were accosiated with the crime, which is enough to get you a pretty long prison sentence. But, if you help us out, tell us who really killed Tanner, and name everyone else involved in this little mess, your sentence may be shortened." Stephen spread his hands. "Your choice."

After about a minute of silence, Shane finally broke. "Tanner was supposed to kill the girl-"

"Faith?"

"Yeah, I dunno, that one that was in the news- he was supposed to kill her but he got wasted so he screwed up, so James went and got him from the bar-"

"James?"

"James Mayee, he's one of Witson's assassins."

"So, Witson's involved."

Shane rolled his eyes. "Well, duh. He got mad at Tanner for messing up, then he called me and Wayne, my twin, to come in and we knocked him out." He shrugged. "He messed up and now he's gone. It's the way it's always been with Witson, he don't give you any space for breathing man."

"So, did you or Wayne kill Tanner." Shane narrowed his eyes.

"James."

"James?"

"Yeah, James saw Tanner going for a switchblade in his pocket, and he showed us and we hit him on the head, so he slumped over, and then James picked up the blade and slit his throat."

"Tell me more about this James."

"Well, he's Witson's favourite, and he was working undercover in the police-"

"He's a police officer?"

"Yeah, his fake names like Alan or something."

"What'd you say his last name was again?"

"Mayee." Stephen wrote it down and then it hit him. Mayee spelt backwards was Eeyam.

"Was his police name Alex? Alex Eeyam?"

The doorknob stopped turning as it hit the lock, and Faith could swear that she heard a chuckle from the other side of the door. She heard the knob jiggling; whoever was over there was having fun with this. She clenched her fists and bit her lip. She moved closer to the counter, where her hands clenched the edge of the counter and the cool tile helped sharpen her senses and bring her back to the present. Her body felt alive- fully alert and high on terror.

"Faith…" The knob stopped jiggling and then she heard a soft knock. "Open the door…."

Her entire body was frozen now, rigid with fear. It was the man from the woods, it had to be. He must've thought that she told someone about that night, and now he was here; he was going to take that blade of ice that had once choked her and carve up her face, add some more scars to her back, redo her arms and legs-

A gunshot exploded into the air and Faith jumped back and shrieked. She heard the door swing open on creaky hinges and her hands flailed behind her, feeling for something, anything that could save her; footsteps walked towards her and her hand closed on a rubber handle. She swung the curling iron around, ripping the cord from the wall, and felt it hit her attacker. He screamed and she heard his skin sizzle. She pressed it in harder, as hard as she could, until she felt a thick hand grab hers and rip the curler from her grip.

Faith yelped and ran to the other side of the room where she kept her figurines full of jewelry. Her hands, extremely loud, swept through everything, feeling for a sharp edge, hoping to find that large brooch or maybe a thick necklace, but they were shaking too much and she could hear him struggling to find her. He slammed into the counter beside her, so close, and she stepped away as quickly as she could with a long, gold chain in one hand.

The room was thick with silence, the only noise being a few creaky footsteps that gave away their positions as they circled in the dark. The only window in the bathroom was covered in a black curtain; the only light that they got would've been from lightning, but none had surfaced so far. Faith knew that her only hope would be to get to the door, but he had a gun, and in all the running around and fear, she was dizzy and couldn't seem to sense what direction she was facing- would she run into a counter, or the door?

Suddenly, a rope of lightning twisted the sky; she saw the door, hanging partly open just five feet from her current position, and worst of all, his face. He had a large, long burn from her curler on his neck, and his eyes were- Alex? She gasped and made a run for it, knowing that he, too, had seen her and would be running. Knowing that she'd started too late from her surprise at his identity, she wasn't really all that surprised when her grabbed her shoulder and slammed her into the wall, only a foot from the door. The hit took her breath, and she only had half of her strength when he spun her around and pinned her to the wall with two heavy hands on her shoulders.

Her hands acted as if they had a mind of their own as they flew up and wrapped the necklace around Alex's neck, momentarily strangling him. She pulled down with all her might, tightening the rope, and his hands came up to her neck and began to squeeze. She knew that all she had to do was stay conscious longer than him and he would let go; the chain was so cold in her hands, and was starting to cut into her palms, but after what felt like eternity, she felt his grip loosen. She gasped a breath and pulled even tighter. His hands loosened and she let go of the necklace and shoved him off her. He crumpled at her feet.

She stumbled in a twist and flew out the door, clicking lights on as she went so she could see. The storm blazed on outside, heavy and seemingly worse than before. She reached her kitchen panting, and picked up the phone. It took her three tries to dial Stephen's number because her hands were shaking so much. The phone rang three times, then went to his voicemail.

"Stephen, please as soon as you get this, come over to my house. Alex was here, and he attacked me and I- I think he might be dead, or hurt or something- I don't know just please call me, and come over as soon as you can."

Faith called him one more time, but he didn't answer. She hung up when his voicemail started talking, and then a bang echoed through the house and she nearly dropped the phone. Alex was up. Relief flooded her at the thought that she hadn't killed him, but it was quickly replaced by fear. She dialed 911, and quickly explained her situation- a man in her house who she had been dating attacked her and she left him unconscious. She asked for Stephen Lightridge to personally come, because he was involved in the case, and the receptionist promised that she would ask. The woman told her to stay in her kitchen where there was plenty of room to move around, and that they were sending cars their way.

Faith stood by the counter, a knife in her hand and the phone in the other, prepared to click the talk button as soon as Stephen called her back. She heard another bang, and it sounded closer this time. What could it be? Alex, stumbling through the hallways and hitting the walls? Was he searching for something, shoving aside furniture? Faith didn't dare go check things out, but instead stayed by the fridge, hoping that he would hurt himself badly and stay away from her before the police came.

Why was Alex here? Why would he attack her? Was he really that angry about their fight? It had been hardly more than an impatient spat, and Faith couldn't even remember what it was about. Oh, yeah. He didn't want her hanging out with Stephen while she was dating him. Well, good luck with that. There was no way in hell she was going out with _him_ again, after he attacked her in her own home. She was glad she burnt him. She hoped it hurt.

A third bang rang through the house and this time it was very close, close enough to be in the hallway across from her. She gripped the knife tighter and breathed in the heavy scent that always came with storms. Freshly cut wood and lime. Strange, she knew, but it always smelt the same.

Faith wondered if Alex was only banging around to scare her. Well, he was doing a good job. The knife's blade wavered a bit, flickering the light around, and her knuckles were white on the handle. She waited, ears pricked, sensitive to every sound. Were those footsteps, or just the rain pounding on the roof? Did the floor just creak, or was it just the walls swaying in the wind? It was amazing how Nature picks the absolute worst times to amaze us with her fury, Faith thought. It couldn't be a nice, warm, dry evening where she could run out and hide in the woods; no, instead she was stuck during an intense storm in this creaky house-

But wait, Faith thought. She could run out and into her barn. Sure, she would get soaked, but the police didn't say anything about not leaving and Alex surely wouldn't expect it.

Faith took another two minutes debating options back and forth, and then planning everything down to the number of steps it would take her. She was only wearing a robe, but putting on shoes would just waste time. There was a coat hanging on the ledge beside the front door, she was pretty sure, that she could grab before she slipped out. There was a phone in the barn, so Stephen could still contact her.

Still gripping the knife, Faith stepped lightly through her kitchen to the entryway and saw, shining in a pool of light like a gift sent from above, a thick rain jacket thrown carelessly over the ledge by the closet. She slunk over to it and grabbed it, careful not to bend it too much or else it would crinkle loudly. She slowly opened the door that was still unlocked, glad that it didn't creak, and stepped out onto the front step. There was a slight overhang of roof that protected her from the rain at this spot, so she slowly shut the door and in the noise of the storm, put on the jacket. Slipping the hood over her curled hair, she zipped it up and held the knife up in both hands.

No noise came from inside, but she probably wouldn't have heard anything anyway because the storm was so loud. Lightning lit the horizon and gave her a straight path to the barn. She decided that now was good a time as ever, and took off in a sprint. She was still pretty shaky from the whole attack-in-the-dark-almost-strangle incident, but surprisingly she didn't fall. Her feet were numb by the time she got to the barn, and she slid on a sheet of water as she tried to stop in front of the door. Pulling it open, she pulled it closed right behind her and collapsed in a pile of hay.

Link neighed beside her worriedly, and she gave him a sad smile from her wet pile of robe and hay. It was so cold in the wooden barn; her hands shook and so she put the knife down so she could pull her arms into her jacket. She walked over to Link and sat down beside him, hoping to absorb some of his big horse heat.

Faith let herself relax. _You're safe_, she told herself. _You are in a good position. The police are coming, Alex probably doesn't even know you're gone, and Stephen is bound to be out of whatever meeting he was in and get your message._ Even with these comforting thoughts, the whole reality of her situation made her shake, and not just in cold, but in fear. The AM case was not closed- people were still trying to kill her. But Alex? What did he have to do with anything?

And when, if ever, was Death going to stop trying to take her home with him?


	42. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41**

Stephen was having a hard time breathing when he pushed the redial button. He had stepped out from the interrogation room with Shane Leverl's witness report when the secretary said that there was a message for him on his desk. Then, as he nonchalantly glanced at his phone to check to time, he saw two missed calls from Faith. Her message caught him by surprise, and it finally clicked in by the time he got to his desk and saw the big black letters on a yellow sticky note: **FAITH WOODS ATTACKED AT HOME. POLICE SENT TO HOUSE, PERSONAL VICTIM REQUEST FOR YOU. **

He grabbed the sticky note and stamped it to Walton's door as he ran past, heading out the door. He called Faith and she picked up on the second ring. "Stephen!"

"Faith, what happened? Are you ok?"

"I don't know, I was in the shower and then my light turned off; I thought it was my power because of the storm, but my curling iron was still on and then I heard the doorknob turning, oh my god Stephen I was so scared." Her voice broke and she explained the rest of it in between deep breaths.

"Where are you now? Have the police gotten there yet?"

"No, no the police aren't here. I'm in the barn, I'm just waiting for the cops to come-" She cut herself off and gasped a bit.

"What, what is it?" Stephen was in his truck, driving through the storm. What was taking the police so long to get there? He turned on his police scanner, and suddenly heard a reference to Faith Woods. He turned it up, waiting for Faith to answer to him. "Faith?"

He heard to scanner call for backup because of nails on the road that had blew the cars that were supposed to be helping Faith. Stephen swore under his breath and pulled over to the side before quickly pulling his hand over hand and did a U-turn. What other ways were there to Faith's house? This road was no good because of the nails.

"Stephen." Faith was whispering now and the feeling in Stephen's stomach twisted up. "I think Alex is outside." Her voice was panicked now, definitely upset. "What did I do, Stephen? Why is Alex trying to kill me?"

"His real name is James, and he works for the ACSI, a company who used to employ your father, Darth."

"So, he's working for the same guys as Tanner."

"Yeah. What's happening now?" Stephen's windshield wipers were flipping back and forth furiously, struggling to clear the onslaught of rain coming down. Lightning flashed above him, stringing out in thick cords of electricity.

"I thought I heard something but I guess it was just the wind because now- AH!" Her voice was cut off by a scream and then a muffled bang as she probably dropped the phone.

"Faith!" He shouted into the phone, and his jerking hand almost made him swerve into the other lane. Static, a bang, a shriek that could've only been from Faith's throat- Stephen shouted her name again. Through the pounding in his ears, it took him a moment to decipher that the monotone echo was the dial tone. She was gone.

Faith opened her eyes and blinked away the blurry image before her. When it finally cleared, she saw that she was still in her barn, sitting in a spare stall with her hands tied to the wall. The pain hit then- a blinding flash of white from the back of her head where Alex must've hit her, and she bent over with a soft cry. Footsteps surrounded her, echoing in the small space, and she glanced up to see Alex towering over her, feet spread apart in a clearly superior manner.

"I was wondering when you were gonna wake up." He said, and the tone of his voice made her shudder. He said it as if he was her husband greeting her in the morning, instead of some crazy ex-boyfriend with emotional problems.

"What do you want from me?" Faith now knew that he was working for the same people as Tanner, so she obviously had something that they wanted, or else Alex could have easily killed her on one of their dates.

"Who says that I want anything? Maybe I just want to hurt you." The same friendly tone accompanied the words, and Faith knew then that there was something seriously wrong with this man.

"Tanner failed trying to kill me, so you people must have switched tactics, or discovered something that I have that you need. So you kept me alive, and now you're going to force me to tell you something."

"Who are we?"

"The ACSI. You employed my father, Darth."

Alex laughed and stepped around her. She felt his hand trance along the back of her shoulders, and wanted to slap it away, but her hands were tied in front of her. The rope around her wrists traced the pattern of her scars, and she felt a bit of her resolve fall away as her subconscious recognized the situation. This was the same way that Darth had beat her, tied up in a wooden shed, walking around her in a superior gait.

"Faith, you can stop lying now. We all know that you remember. Now, why don't we skip the chit-chat and you tell me where Cole hid it."

The name Cole sparked something in her, and she suddenly knew that that was the name of the man who she had drawn. The man that she had loved, but remembered him as being angry. "Cole? Who's Cole?"

"Don't play stupid with me, girl. You know exactly who Cole is. Your father."

Faith's vision tunneled and her head spun; she choked and felt like throwing up. "My father? Darth is my father."

Suddenly, a memory lit up her head, momentarily blinding her as she was transported to the past. She was three years old, and there was a man swinging her around, and laughing with her. It was him! The man- Cole! Faith shook her head and blinked to find Alex in her face.

"Answer me!" He slapped her.

The hit made her black out again, only this time the air in front of her wasn't black, but she was in a pale blue room, sitting on an ugly orange couch. Her legs were short so her feet didn't quite touch the floor; they swung back and forth and she nervously twisted her fingers in her lap. "Cole is my daddy."

A therapist sat across from her and shook her head. "Faith, there is no one named Cole in your family. Darth is your father, Maryanne is your mother, and Isabella is your sister."

Faith came back to the present, to find her cheek pressed up against the cold floor of the barn. Alex once again towered over her. She realized, a bit distantly, that she was tipped over and was lying on her side; the ropes dug into her hands from the angle they were at, and she adjusted them to loosen the bite.

"Alex," she gasped. "I don't know what you're talking about. Darth is my father."

"Ok, sure I'll play it your way. Where did _Darth_ hide it?"

"Hide what?" She shouted and struggled to sit up so she could see him properly. The left side of her robe hung open, exposing her naked torso, but Faith didn't have the hands or the energy to try and close it. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"So, if you don't know what I'm talking about then who is the second man in that painting that you sold to Suzanne's Gallery on September fifteenth?"

Faith remembered the painting vividly. It had taken her three months to make it perfect, and even then she kept it for an additional year because it was just so personal. It was an image of the night her parents died, the same scene that plagued her dreams the night that Tanner had tried to kill her. A man, Darth, was beating a woman, Maryanne, while two children, Faith and Isabella, cowered behind an overturned couch. But in the corner, through a window streaked with rain, was a man watching the whole ordeal.

"He was just a symbol, like God, of someone who sees everything but can't, or won't, do anything about it." Faith's voice was soft and she was on the verge of tears. What did her painting have anything to do with this?

"That's what Witson assumed at first when he saw the painting, but after, he realized that the shadow matched the exact profile of Cole. And then he knew. You remembered. And you put Cole in your painting to taunt us, to say 'come and get me, I have something that you want'."

Faith's head was still throbbing from both blows, and all these confusing words just made it worse. "I don't remember anything! Let me go." She cried, shouting angrily.

"Now, now Faith, getting angry won't help anyone. Let me lay it out for you: somehow in the last few months, you remembered everything that those therapists forced you to forget. You went to Cole's hiding place and retrieved all of his information. Then, knowing that we would be watching, you sold that painting and put it all out into the open. You know everything that Cole saw, and you had the idiocy to think that Witson wouldn't do anything. Well, you thought wrong."

Faith just shook her head and looked down, away from Alex's twisted face, letting the tear drops fall onto the hay beneath her. "I don't know what you're talking about." Her voice was soft and confused, and she hoped that he would see the truth and let her go. "I don't know who Cole is."

Alex growled and hit her on the head again. She slumped down, her cheek leaning heavily on the wooden floor, and his hand struck her back. She could feel a thick pressure pushing in the back of her head, trying to escape, to get out. A final blow to her face from his shoe made her black out, and the barrier that held back the pressure collapsed and she fell headlong into a river of memories.

_"Mommy drunk and cried a lot." Faith said, looking confused at the angry faces around her. "Sometimes she hit me when she got really angry." _

_ The therapists shook their heads. "Your mother was a devout Christian, she would never hit you. It was your father, Darth, who beat you." _

_ Faith shook her head back at them. "Cole is my daddy." _

_ "Cole doesn't exist. Your mother was married to Darth, who was an alcoholic and beat you." _

Faith suddenly remembered all of the therapy sessions, where the counselors had forced lies onto her and made her believe the story that they fed her. The truth shouted out at her and she was thoroughly shocked when she opened her eyes to reality and stared up at Alex.

"You honestly don't remember, do you?" His voice was full of disbelief.

"No!" She cried, even though now she did remember. She was too shocked to cry, and seemed to be looking at herself through someone else's eyes, like she'd stepped out of herself for a moment to absorb this blow. _Isabella…_

"Well, that really is a shame. Now I have no use for you."

Faith felt a bit of relief at these words. _He's going to let me go!_

"But, now that you know that there is something that you don't want us to have, you won't stop until you find it. And, of course, you'll tell the police about me. So, I'm sorry Faith but I'm going to have to kill you."

"No…." Her plea was quiet, because deep down she knew that she could do nothing to stop it; there was nothing she could say that would change his mind.

Alex stepped over a clump of hay and picked up his gun from the top of a barrel. He pulled out two bullets from his pocket and dropped then into the shaft; they clicked loudly as they dropped into place, and Faith thought it sounded as absolute as the click of a lock in a jail cell, or the snap as the floor beneath the gallows falls open and the criminal hangs. Faith scuttled backwards, away from him and felt something sharp stab into her elbow. She winced away and then almost smiled at the irony of her situation. It was her knife. Here she was, tied up and just moments from her death, with a knife lying beside her. And then her eyes widened at the brilliance of it, and she stole a glance at Alex, who was still adjusting his gun.

Using her elbows, she managed to lift the knife and stick it between her knees, blade pointing down. She turned so that her actions weren't extremely obvious to Alex, placed the rope under the knife, and began sawing away, pulling her hands up and down in an alternating motion. She saw the bottom of the rope begin to fray, then one section split. She sawed more frantically now, hoping, praying that she would get free fast enough. The second section split, and she was just working on the third and final part, when she heard hay crunch, and turned her head quickly to see Alex had finished loading the gun and was pointing it at her. She slowly sawed, hoping that he wouldn't see what she was doing.

"Please Alex, you don't have to do this." Up and down, up and down- she sawed slowly but put a lot of pressure on the rope, hoping it would split soon.

"I do have to do this. If I let you go, you will remember Cole and then the police will have my head. Witson is probably in custody now, if what Stephen said he found really did happen, and I'm the only one left."

The rope snapped then, and she had to bite her tongue to stop herself from showing it. She picked the knife up with both hands; her wrists were still tied together, but she was disconnected to the wall.

Alex raised the gun and aimed it at her head. She raised her hands, and then they both heard the sound of tires crunching beneath gravel. Alex turned ever so slightly towards the sound, and Faith took that time to fling her hands forward and throw the knife; it somersaulted in mid-air before imbedding itself into Alex's shoulder. Faith was on her feet as Alex jerked and the gun boomed in his hand. A hole opened up in the wall just beside her from his bullet, and she jumped forward and ran towards the stall's door. She shoved Alex aside, pushed the door open, and sprinted to the barn door. It opened before she got there though, and through the half open door she saw Stephen's face, eyes wide in surprise. He raised his hand, and there was a gun in it, aimed at her. She slid to a stop, heart thudding, suddenly terrified. Was Stephen working with Alex?

She felt a thick hand on her shoulder, and then a gunshot boomed and she fell to the floor to protect herself. Alex fell down behind her and she realized that Stephen had shot him, not her; the smell of hay rose up in her nose as she glanced up and saw Stephen was talking into his cell phone with his gun trained on Alex.

"Faith," He said, and motioned for her to get up and move away from Alex, who was groaning breathy swears beside her. She struggled up and then everything tipped over and Stephen had to come over and let her grab him so she could catch her balance. Memories kept flooding into her brain, images that had been repressed by years of therapy. All this information was making her dizzy, and it was all she could do not to faint. Stephen had his arm around her shoulders and was shouting something at Alex.

"Stay down, Mayee! Put your hands where I can see them." Alex slid his hands up over his head, but was still groaning. Blood was soaking through his cut in the shoulder and a gunshot wound in his opposite arm, but Stephen must've decided that he was no longer a huge threat, because he twisted her so that she was facing him and pushed her hair away from her face, fingers lightly tracing the bruise on her cheek.

Sirens were echoing through her community, and Faith could hear cars pulling into her driveway. Two officers ran in and were shouting at Alex as they knelt beside him and cuffed him. Then a man in white- a paramedic, Faith supposed- also knelt down and pressed a white bandage against his arm. Faith felt a hand on her shoulder, and Stephen let her go as she turned and saw Ariel leading her away from the scene. She pulled Faith into a hug and Faith let the sobs that had been building up escape her throat.

She was safe. And now, even a crazy ex-boyfriend, or an assassin's company couldn't keep her from the love that she deserved. She caught Stephen's eye over Ariel's shoulder, and couldn't help but feel warm all over herself at the love she saw shining in his eyes.

And Faith smiled.


	43. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

In the days since Alex's attack, Alex/James Eeyam/Mayee was put into custody and charged with first degree murder for Bob Tanner, and attempted murder for Faith Woods. Witson, Leverl, and a few other ACSI employees were charged with similar association crimes, and needless to say, the ACSI was shut down. Some employees admitted that the ACSI was also rich from selling and transporting drugs, and many other people around America were arrested for dealing with drugs in association with the ACSI.

The AM case was closed then, with Faith living safely in her home, dating Stephen and happy for the first time in a long time. Today, Stephen was over at her house, and she was sitting in his lap, her sketchbook in one hand, explaining to him what her memories had revealed to her. She had bought a new sketchbook just for the occasion, for her past. Now that she remembered, she decided that it was time to stop running, and to face her problems. Putting it all on paper was the best way she could think of to deal with it. Talking about it was the second best.

"This is Cole." Faith said, pointing to a happy man on the first page. "He was my mom's high school sweetheart, but after grad her life went downhill when she met Darth, and he sold her drugs. Cole found them one day, and he broke things off, but then he found out that she was pregnant, and he was constantly checking up on her. Cole is my father." Faith looked up at Stephen. "He was around some of the time, but he had to work, and my mom married Darth, and everything went wrong after that. Darth," Faith flipped to the next page, which showed a thin, gaunt, pale-faced man who obviously had a drug problem. "beat me and my mom. That night, he came home stoned and drunk, and started beating me. Maryanne tried to stop him, so he took it out on her. Then Cole came over to check up on Maryanne, because he still cared about her. He saw what was happening, and he saw Maryanne stab Darth. He wasn't supposed to be over there, he had a restraining order on him, and when he heard the police sirens, he ran. He knew that Darth was involved in the ACU, and so he tracked down records and things and wrote them all into a journal over a five year period." Faith flipped the next page, which showed an old, green notebook. "He gave these to Isabella, who was going to tell the police, but then her 'accident' happened."

The next page was Isabella, nearly identical to Faith in every way except their eyes. "The ACU has many people in all areas and social status, so when we found out that we were going to live with a man and his family, because they wanted to possibly us, we were happy. Turns out, he was working for ACU and was supposed to keep an eye on us. When Isabella got the notebook in the mail, the next day she was killed by carbon monoxide poisoning. Someone left the car running in the garage, with all the doors closed, while she was organizing the recycling and she died.

"Throughout all this, we were also in intensive therapy. The therapists were working for ACU, big surprise, and forced us to believe the story they made up. We didn't know a man named Cole, our mother was a Christian, and Darth beat us. In reality, Cole was a Christian, mom and dad were druggies and abused us- Darth more physically and Maryanne just didn't care about us, she was too far under. So, over time, we forgot about what had really happened, and the truth got shoved deep down in our heads, ready to explode."

The next pages showed a hospital bed with Faith lying on a white table, back bloody and scarred; a pale, blue room with ugly, orange couches where Faith sat across from two angry looking men in white; Faith and Isabella hiding under the covers of an orphanage's bed at night; Isabella, dead in the garage.

"My back was the only part that they couldn't fix, so I have these scars for a lifetime. Darth used to lock me up in the wooden shed behind our house whenever I cried for food or attention; he would hit me until I shut up, and Isabella soon learned where he kept me and would sneak me food through the cracks. Darth liked Isabella, but for some reason he hated me. We were both Cole's kids, we looked the same, but for some reason I pissed him off and Isabella didn't. I was only five; I was too young to understand that if I didn't cry, then he wouldn't hit me, so I just kept doing the same things over and over again."

Faith shook her head, and kept flipping through the pages, a bit too quickly, passing through all scenes of violence, tears and reprimanding therapists. She sighed when the page turned to a tall building protected by an iron wrought gate, the words 'St. Marie's Home for Unfortunate Youth' stenciled across the front.

"This was my favorite orphanage. We got to go to real school, live a somewhat normal life, and they were the ones who made me become an artist. They had this program where you wrote a test to figure out what kind of 'smart' you were. I was visually smart, so I showed them my sketchbook, and they brought in a teacher every week to teach me art techniques, and signed me up for an art school in San Fran. Before I even left the home, they were selling some of my paintings and putting the money away for me in a special savings account, so when I left I would have enough money to survive on my own."

She flipped through a few more pages, and ended on a page of her saying goodbye to a group of kids in front of St. Marie's. Her last day at the Home.

Faith turned to look up at Stephen, who had remained silent thus far. "You know the rest, that's the gist of it…"

Stephen nodded; he did know. He had told her everything that he had discovered about unreachable parts of her past by looking through old case files. When her parents were killed, all the drugs that the police found were stamped with ACU. Police traced them down, but they got away, and resurfaced twelve years later, back in Cassey, under a new name: ACSI. Cole was killed sometime after Isabella in a hit and run that never went anywhere. And Faith was left alone to deal with this, passed back and forth between orphanages. No one ever wanted to adopt her; she was too unstable and scarred. Before Isabella died, adopting just one of the twins was never an option, and after she died, Faith was so messed up that whenever she got sent to a Jolly Rancher, she would throw tantrums and fits because she was terrified that they were going to kill her, or she would die in some freak accident.

Because of the painting that she sold, that Witson assumed meant that she now remembered Cole, Tanner was sent to question her about the green notebook, then kill her. That was why he was poking around her couches with his gun- he was trying to find the notebook. Witson changed tactics once he failed and decided to just watch her and figure out where it was in a more subtle manner. In reality, Faith had no idea where the journal was. She still didn't. Isabella had put it somewhere before she died, and its secrets were now lost forever.

"It's all over now, Faith." Stephen said and reached up to push a piece of her hair away from her face, his eyes swimming in emotion. He kissed her forehead, and she leaned her head against his chest. After fighting to survive for nineteen years, being abandoned and thrown around from house to house, it was finally over. She was finally home.

The End.


End file.
